Over Hot Chocolate
by write-love-latte
Summary: Ginny Weasley could probably not have cooked to save her life, but she could make a flavour of hot chocolate to suit any personality...DMGW, and some other pairings. Romance! R
1. Heartbreak Over Hot Chocolate

Over Hot Chocolate

**Summary: Ginny Weasley could probably not have cooked to save her life, but she could make a flavour of hot chocolate to suite any personality. She lived by the weighted philosophy that all things emerge over hot chocolate, and that hot chocolate was a simply inevitable part of life. Inevitable or not, when her friend Hermione Granger gets dumped, Ginny is fully prepared to earn her badges in the war of revenge and wit--not only will she come up with a plan so ghastly ill-fated and devious that not even hot chocolate will be able to save her, but somewhere along the way she'll truly learn the meaning of fate and inevitability.**

Chapter One: Heartbreak Over Hot Chocolate

Ginny had almost made it. Almost. All week she had been away from it, all week! You would have thought she was avoiding it--but of course not! Who could avoid something so pleasurable, something so sheerly wonderful and natural that even the most primitive of people found themselves engaged? _Whom_? One whole week without it, and she felt as though she were a drone, as though monotony laboured through her days, making them harshly prolonged and bitterly comparable. One. Whole. Week.

Her knees had only touched the silky Egyptian cotton of her sheets (that had probably taken a month's worth of her salary to buy) when her door was attacked. Yes, attacked. Assailed. Ambushed. There was no other word to describe it. A insistent banging accompanied by a banshee-like wail of her name. It was horrible when amassed to the horrifying rainstorm already consummating outside; it was absolutely _dreadful_.

But Ginny figured she could ignore it.

She dropped, exhausted, into the welcoming grasps of her bed, the sheets piling in around her, carressing her skin with undue ease. Oh, one whole week of adding caffeine to her hot chocolate, one whole week of _no sleep_. She felt she could probably hibernate for the rest of the year, locked up in her bedroom, wrapped up in her cool sheets, just _sleeping_.

But then it started.

And if it was one thing Ginny could not sleep through, it was Ivan's _barking_. Woofing. Howling. _Roaring_. That _damned dog_. She heard his heavy footsteps rush to the door, nails scratching it unmercifully, trying to open it for whatever demon was assaulting it from outside. Then, the scratching stopped, and Ginny's heart clenched in anticipation of what she knew was about to happen. There was a flurry of steps, then suddenly the bed sunk, springs creaking in complaint, and she herself was attacked, the two hundred pound Mastiff pouncing on her with all might and proceeding to lick her bare arms, neck and whatever other skin his large, slimy appendage could reach.

She groaned, lids heavy with fatigue, all limbs seeming just a little slower than usual. At sign of life, Ivan hopped off her, barking possibly louder. His excitement was untouchable at this point--the prospect of some one new to lick never failed to arouse. And that some one who would soon be subject to his undivided salivary attention was still banging, as if for dear life, upon her poor front door, which at this point must be about to crumble into a million, abused pieces.

Ginny couldn't have bothered to think at that point; she simply found herself stumbling to the front door with Ivan rushing animatedly about her ankles, as though he were a cat and not a very, very large dog. As the door flew open, propelled by the extraordinary force of the wind, a large, wet and brown thing fell in, clutching at Ginny's knees to stop from losing its balance, but failing miserably as they both fell, unceremoniously, to the ground.

Shock welcomed Ginny to her new position, pinned beneath a distraught and sobbing Hermione, who in turn was pinned beneath a slobbering and precariously overjoyed Ivan. She took a few moments to gather herself, blinking in confusion. "Herms?" she asked, as if in disbelief.

"Ginny? Oh Gin--" the rest was lost in a barrage of hysterical sobbing that had Ginny even more confused than before.

But at least the fact that the soaked and bawling creature atop her was Hermione Granger had been established. Now Ginny had somewhere to base her investigation.

"Herms, if you could--" she shifted, uncomfortable, as the girl seemed unwilling to remove herself from her perch atop Ginny. "Off, please--"

"I'm-m sor-ry," the distressed Hermione said, rolling wetly to the side of the now dripping Ginny, "Yo-u probably d-don't h-ave time for m-e." And the brown-haired girl burst into possibly more tears.

Ginny got up, now fully awake as the cold of the rainwater soaked into her night clothes--a comfy pair of boxers and a sheer white tank top. She closed the door, realizing the the whole of her foyer was now just was wet as she and Hermione, and that Ivan had just run off for a romp in the three o'clock in the morning and sludgy mud.

She sighed deeply, eying the still hysterical Hermione who was now curled up in a small, clammy ball of clothing, hair, and tears, then switching her disappointed gaze to another ball of fuzz that was now caked deeply in mud. 'Perfect,' she thought, 'I just knew I was going to get to sleep tonight. After all, it _is_ a Friday, and I _have_ worked a total of, well, let's see, a _million_ hours this week--one would think one was deserving of a little shut-eye.'

But for now, she had other, more pressing matters to handle.

* * *

Ginny knew the situation called for it as soon as Hermione said his name.

"Draco..."

Yes, yes, the situation practically screamed for it--it would help Hermione to talk more freely, and it would prove more consolement than Ginny felt herself capable of mustering this night. Definitely.

And, ah, the Slytherin Prince, and, oh, the irony that she should still call him that after all these years. They were, after all, adults now, and the old house feuds at Hogwarts had just about dissolved into nothing more than vacant unease--and even that had withered away over the past three years, especially after the Slytherin Prince and the Gryffindor Know-It-All made their uncanny and uncalled for attraction to each other apparent to the world, just about a year ago. However, despite the fact that the young Malfoy seemed to be a 'changed man', and considering the toll the war had taken on him and his mother, Ginny still couldn't help but grimace at his mere name.

No matter how much Hermione had attempted to convince her he was the epitome of sheer goodness, just laced with unduly sarcasm and misplaced arrogance, Ginny had never come to like the boy. He was a git, and whenever she was forced into his presence, which (thank the lord!) wasn't much, the two usually ignored each other outright. There was something not quite right with the world, Ginny figured, if a Weasley and a Malfoy could come to get along. Apparently, her brothers had thought so, too.

And now, Ginny suspected, she was in for it. The sobbing Hermione, who Ginny had just managed to dry, along with the rest of her London flat--dog and herself included--seemed to break down all over again, and Ginny wondered if it was really raining so hard outside, or if Hermione had simply cried herself drenched. Nevertheless, she hushed the distraught girl, padding barefoot out of the cozy living room and into the adjoining kitchen. She watched the girl's head bob up and down, clearly anguished, as she got out her materials.

Oh, this was a bad case; Ginny could tell, and she hadn't even heard it yet. Her two biggest muggest clinked gently against the marble counter as she set them down--the big blue one, hers and hers alone. Cold milk and blocks of chocolate extracted, she wondered what Malfoy could have done that could put the usually self-assured Hermione into hysterics. Milk and sweet chocolate to pot, pot to stove...Ah! How could she forget, how could she forget...What was Hermione's ingredient again?

Half a teaspoon of vanilla and a touch of cinnamon. That was it.

She sighed, breathing in deeply the smell of her own hot chocolate, as she handed the steaming mug to her friend, the girl smiling weakly in appreciation. Ginny bristled softly in satisfaction as she saw the girl visibly relax at the first sip. Ginny sat, legs up, next to her friend, trying to look more consoling than tired. She tasted her chocolate, visibly settling into her seat--the caffeine she had dripped into it making the flavour bitter and sweet, the foam around the top clinging to her top lip.

She sighed, and looked expectantly to Hermione, the hot chocolate thankfully easing her early-morning irritability. "What did he do, hun?"

The girl seemed to hesitate over her cup, before eagerly taking a large mouthful. She swiped away her tears and lay back into the plush cushions, apparently becoming more relaxed herself. "He..." she sniffed, and for a moment Ginny though the girl would burst out into tears again, "He..."

Ginny frowned, trying to be patient. She took another sip of her hot chocolate, the liquid searing pleasantly down her throat. Hermione was only starting to recover from her previous wetness. The fireplace had come alive about fifteen minutes earlier, now playing lazy shadows along the carpeted ground and warming the two women with its glow, causing their cheeks to flush. Ginny now wore a large t-shirt that had, most probably, belonged to one of her brothers; she had loaned Hermione a sensible pair of pajamas, since it was obvious the girl would be staying over tonight.

The room was silent for a few moments, and Ginny heard Hermione hold back a sob. "We...he...broke up with me!" All of a sudden the dams seemed to have broken once more, Hermione's brown eyes overflowing with tears, her whole body wracked with sobs. "I...I..." The hot chocolate lay, forgotten at her lap, Hermione's shaking hands barely able to hold it still. Gently, Ginny pushed the divine concoction to Hermione's trembling lips, watching as the formula eased her crying once more.

Ah, so it would be a case of heartbreak over hot chocolate, then, Ginny thought inwardly.

"He broke up with you?" Ginny asked, softly, "Why?"

Suddenly Hermione rose defiantly, her untameable hair like a fuzzy halo around her indignant face, "He's a git! A ponce! An...an _asshole_!" she said, loudly, her voice still shaking. Ginny winced at her use of language--usually Hermione was so much more composed. The redhead listened, complacently, as Hermione swore at her ex-boyfriend, letting her vent the negative feelings, every other moment taking a sip of her hot chocolate and watching as Hermione mirrored her movements. Hot chocolate was very calming, or in Hermione's case revolutionary, when it came to situations like this. Hopefully, once she had finished insulting the Malfoy, they could get some sleep.

Exhausted, Hermione collapsed onto the sofa, the squishy piece of furniture sinking with her weight. Her empty mug lingered on her lap and she looked ready to drop dead. "Shall I get you another cup?" Ginny asked, gesturing to the mug. Hermione nodded, holding it out, and Ginny smiled, hopping back over to her pot full of hot chocolate, scooping some in, then adding in Hermione's ingredients, "Feel like some whipped cream tonight?" she called to the girl, and heard a grunt of approval. She dug in her fridge for a minute, coming up with the store-bought mousse and dishing some on top. She sprinkled another bit of cinnamon for decor, before returning the cup to its waiting occupant, and herself to her seat.

It was quiet for a moment, then, "Ginny, I want you to help me get revenge on him."

Halfway through a mouthful of hot chocolate, Ginny choked. "Revenge?"

"I want you to help me show him that I was the only girl for him. That he'll never find another woman like me."

Ginny rolled her eyes, smiling, "Herms, that's something he'll realize after a while without you. You don't need to show him--it'll hit him like a barrell in the face, eventually."

"No," Hermione said, after a pause, "I want to show him. And I want to be there when he sees it."

"Herm--"

"Ginny, he hurt me. He broke my heart," Hermione said, and despite the fact that she gulped down a bit of hot chocolate, Ginny did not see the tears recede, "I loved him...I think I still love him. But I want to teach him a lesson. I want to let him know he can't just tell Hermione Granger he doesn't want her any more, that, 'maybe we should spend some time apart'. I want him to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with him. That I love him, even though..."

The thought was left unfinished, and Ginny could imagine the answer. Hearing about the Slytherin Prince in such a way was highly disturbing to her; she found it hard to believe that kind-hearted, intelligent and utterly lovely Hermione could have fallen in love with such a stooge. Sure, Malfoy may have had some things going for him--but _personality_ wasn't one of them. Hermione on the other hand...Hermione was great; she was helpful and genuine, ever the Gryffindor, even after school! She had a successful Ministry job, her own flat and great friends. Why, oh why did she need some one like Draco Malfoy?

"Will you help me, Gin?" Hermione asked, her eyes pleading and innocent. Ginny felt her heart go out to her friend...if she really loved Draco Malfoy, who was Ginny to judge? Hermione was her friend, and if to be a good friend Ginny Weasley had to plot against Draco Malfoy (which would be the easy part), and eventually stand the two getting married then...then so be it!

"Of course I'll help you, Herms."

For the first time that night, a vivid smile broke out on Hermione's face, her large teeth coming into plain view. "THANK YOU! I knew you'd say yes--"

Ginny's eyelids grew heavy as her friend continued on a string of praises; she took in the last mouthful of her caffeine-laced hot chocolate. The drink was getting cold now, but it still gave her the little boost she needed to drag the chattering Hermione into the guest room, and herself into her bedroom. She groaned when she found Ivan sprawled across her bed, eventually just giving in and sprawling herself across the dog.

Hazily, she thought of what she could do to help Hermione. Usually, hot chocolate was her most effective weapon--she could enchant anybody with her chocolatey creations, as long as she knew their flavour; and not even, any brew of chocolatey ancestry developed by Ginny was more than likely to enthrall the senses. That was just her gift, she guessed, her strange, awkward gift. Everybody possessed at least one of those, and this was Ginny's: hot chocolate was, to her, a little piece of heaven placed on earth, one that only she could manipulate.

Ah, how lovely hot chocolate was; so rich and creamy--not to mention the fact that you could add anything right down to oranges to it, and still manage a mind-blowing taste. Hot chocolate was definitely powerful--that much Ginny knew. It was powerful, and it was fated. No matter what, people could not escape their hot chocolate flavour. Try as they might, it would always stun them to silence, calm them to submission. Some would call her crazy, but this she _knew_. Hot chocolate was simply a part of life, and thoroughly unavoidable.

But how could she use this against Malfoy? She decided she couldn't, that hot chocolate would very probably have no place in this affair...and yet, the edge of her mind twinkled on something precious, something she knew was going to work...

Languidly, she let it go. She was too tired to be plotting, too tired...

In the morning, she'd wake up early, make some hot chocolate, and think.

**Author's Note: My happy-go-lucky Christmas fic. Going to be pretty long; I definitely won't finish it by Christmas. Still, it's based mainly on hot chocolate, which may seem to you a bit bizarre. However, I have developed a complete love for the drink, have become quite a master at it, and am intent to continue on this tangent :-)**

**If you're not a fan of hot chocolate _don't flame me_.**

**If you think the writing was terrible, _don't hesitate to flame me_.**

**And if you think I am a genius, _please leave a review_.**

**Cheerio!**


	2. Reunion Over Hot Chocolate

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Two: Reunion Over Hot Chocolate

Ginny woke to find Hermione seated at the marble island in her kitchen, picking half-heartedly at a bowl of cereal. She hadn't showered yet, or combed her hair, and so she was still in Ginny's loaned pajamas, looking like a sick and miserable child. The spoon made small clinking noises as she brushed it against the sides of the patterned bowl, the milk inside sloshing hopelessly around as Froot Loops bobbed like tiny, colorful drowning people. Her mass of brown hair was knotted and droopy, not carrying its normal elevation, and Hermione's doe brown eyes seemed to have gone a shade darker on her pale skin. Purple bruises stained the area below her eyes, giving Ginny the impression she hadn't slept a minute last night.

'I'm pretty sure I left her in a good mood,' Ginny mused, making for the cupboard. She was wary of the silence, but too tired herself to break it. She wished only that she could go back to bed and curl up with her big lazy dog, and sleep soundly through the day ahead of her. She had just settled next to Hermione, with the mug of hot chocolate she had promised herself last night, when the girl pressed her forehead to the island counter.

"We were going to get married," the pitiful creature, who could not possibly be Hermione, said, "We were going to get married and have blonde-haired babies with big brown eyes." Her voice cracked, and Ginny sighed deeply.

Though she could not possibly imagine what Hermione and Malfoy's babies would look like, she said, "You're still going to get married, the two of you. And," her voice hesitated, "have blonde-haired babies with big brown eyes." The thought made her shudder. Malfoy and Hermione's offspring, while Ginny would love them as her own, didn't seem such a pleasant idea judging from where their paternal genes would be originating. She didn't bother to tell that to Hermione, though.

"Oh, Gin," Hermione said, looking up with tear-streaked cheeks, "I miss him so much. I want him back." She stared intently into her bowl of Froot Loops. "You have to help me. This pain...this pain is unbearable."

'And someone,' Ginny thought, becoming quite distraught herself, 'Has to help _me_. How am I supposed to avenge her _and_ get them back together at the same time?!' Ginny huffed into her mug of hot chocolate, grimacing slightly as it burned her tongue. "We'll have to show him, then," she said after a while, "Show him that you've moved on."

Hermione looked up from her staring contest with the cereal, alarmed. "But I _haven't_ moved on. I _never_ will."

Ginny sipped some more of the scalding drink, grateful it gave her something more to think of than Hermione's utter devotion to the blonde bastard. "That's not what I meant," she said, as kindly as she could, "We're going to play a game with him." Hermione's eyes lit up a bit, and Ginny concentrated on her hot chocolate. She didn't know where this was coming from, but she fancied it was pleasing to at least one of them. "_You_ will have to date someone, though--just pretend dating, of course," she quickly added, at Hermione's withering look, "and I am going to hook him up with several different girls."

"I don't like that idea," Hermione said, clearly not pleased with the idea of other women with her man, "What if he...what if he likes them?" Her voice shook.

"See," Ginny continued, thinking fast, "We're going to make it so that he _can't_ like any of them. They're going to be ghastly."

"Oh!" Hermione said, smiling widely. Her mood swings were becoming eerily unnerving to Ginny. "I see! Because they're so terrible, he'll finally see that I'm the only girl he could ever want--because I'm _not_ terrible!"

"Exactly," Ginny said, as if she knew. Truth was, she didn't know. She had no idea.

* * *

It was a cozy café down Diagon Alley, situated in a popular area, parallel to Weasley Wizardly Wheezes, Fred and George's increasingly celebrated joke shop. At first, Ginny had struggled to keep it open--many people vouched for the older and more trusted cafés in which to spend their preciously earned money; but eventually, unbeknownst to Ginny, Fred and George had done some advertising of their own. Customers from Weasley Wizardly Wheezes would file in, often ordering the cheapest thing on the menu; yet they surprised themselves by returning, and possibly ordering something a bit more expensive.

Now, two and a half years after opening, Ginny found herself the owner of the most prosperous café, dubbed, to her parents' amusement, "The Burrow", in all of Diagon Alley. It was a nice place, cozy despite its airy clutter, a warm and familiar atmosphere, accentuated by the fact that only five employees, plus Ginny, worked there. The interior was French style, with polished dark wood counters and bronze tables with curling patterns wrought in them. On warm spring and mild summer days, the streets around the café were filled with people sitting in chairs and tables matching the ones in the air-conditioned interior, eating strangely flavoured ice cream and drinking cold cappucinos.

The place was passed around through word of mouth now, Fred and George no longer having to lift a finger and tempt their own customers with fifty percent off discounts to visit their sister's café. It was an independent and bubbling place, filled with happy and thoroughly satisfied customers who weren't afraid to spend their money--because they knew exactly what they were going to get. Any debts Ginny might have owed them for promoting her café had been more than paid, the very fact that the café was paralell to their store bringing in happier and more loose pocketed customers.

It was famed for its openness, the friendliness of the waiters and cashiers, and, of course, its hot chocolate. Miranda, Ginny's cook, was known to make a killer marble cheesecake (or any cheesecake at all), but that was only part of the reason most people visited. It was _mainly_ the hot chocolate they came for, and for that Ginny found herself in demand.

Early November, as it was now, was an even worse time to be working at The Burrow--people had already started flocking in to buy Christmas presents, and often Ginny found herself so busy she hardly had time to breathe. The continually dampening weather, not to mention the added cold, gave people incentive to buy hot chocolate, and Ginny was the only one who could make the famous brew to perfection. It was said she designed a flavour for every person who stepped in, and for that people came and would stand for no one else but Ginny to make their cups.

Today was one of those days slower days, and for that Ginny was grateful. She figured that everybody reasoned the streets would be too packed on a weekend, and for that fact, the streets weren't packed at all. So Ginny lounged, absently on a counter in kitchens, enjoying the smell of baking foods and boiling chocolates. It was absolutely delicious back here, and apparently, Hermione found it so, as well, fore she bustled around the kitchen, bothering Miranda for a taste of any and everything.

It was around noon when Ginny's recruits arrived--her familiars. It being a Saturday, they probably would have opted to sleep in and order Chinese, not bothering to come out to Diagon so early (or possibly at all); however, Ginny had specifically requested their presence. Shortly before leaving she had sent Pig (the same, tiny, eccentric Weasley owl, yes) with three vaguely written letters, each addressed to one of the people who now loped miserably into her café, looking like tired adults, and not the lively children Ginny had once known. 'We've all grown up,' she thought, sadly, 'We're old now.' She watched as the three, composed of two boys and a girl, split easily up, hardly recognizing each other. She wondered how long it had been since they had spoken to one another, or seen each other. One of the boys and the girl gave each other small smiles, a few words, and retired to a table near the window. The remaining boy scowled at them, as was his fashion, and sat as far away as possible, in a corner.

She grimaced. It was obvious that he had never made himself as friendly with them as he had with her, even back at Hogwarts. Feeling it was time to intervene, she picked up her tray, balanced with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and made her way out of the kitchens. There were only about six other customers present, and they had already been served. Her old friends looked up, almost in consensus, their eyes widening with pleasure and a little bit of their youthfulness returning. The boy in the corner smiled a little, and Ginny grinned widely at him, making a point to go only to the table where the other two sat. He glared at her, and she smirked, using her finger to beckon him over.

He was hesitant, but eventually came to join them. Ginny looked, with satisfaction, at what had once been her Hogwarts clique.

Colin Creevey, with his sandy blonde hair, freckles and glittering blue eyes; Luna Lovegood, stringy blonde hair braided into spikes and blue eyes distant; and last, but not least, her friend who always made it a goal to isolate himself--Blaise Zabini, as cold as ever. You might think it a little weird that Ginny may have associated herself, at Hogwarts, with a Slytherin who was also known to be close to Draco Malfoy--however, she and Blaise had a unique kind of friendship. They got along, despite his sarcasm and her gallantry; though their friendship had been long in the making, and he had never bothered to become familiar with any of her other friends.

"Weasley?" he asked, questioningly, looking pointedly down at the tray that was now on the table, "Do you intend to serve that?" The other two rolled their eyes but said nothing.

"To them, of course," she said, smiling airily, "I didn't bring any for you."

He scowled at her, pulling a chair from one of the other tables and sitting down grudgingly. "Happy?" he asked. She grinned, before picking up one of the mugs (the one with mint in it, of course), and setting it in front of him. He took it gratefully, nodding his head at her before taking a long swig. To Colin, who sat uneasily next to the Slytherin, she gave the one with chocolate chips and a leaf of lavendar; to Luna, who seemed indifferent, she handed over a tangerine flavoured concoction, topped with an abundance of whipped cream.

Now that each had their hot chocolate, Ginny pulled herself a chair and watched them all slowly drink down their mugs. She waited for them to grow accustomed to each other; for Blaise to stop glancing, with apprehension, over at the other two, and for the other two to stop bristling with anxiety at Blaise's presence. Eventually, the hot chocolate would conduct its own introductions and they would become more comfortable--then, she could propose her plan. For now, she looked idly out the large window, her elbows on the table. It was a grey day; not as rainy as it had been yesterday. The sky was dark and the clouds seemed heavy--it was likely to rain tonight. Large, sad looking puddles from last night's storm had pooled on the sidewalks and the streets were very nearly empty. Ginny decided that the day was utterly miserable.

A few minutes later, Colin and Luna had begun a conversation together, and Blaise's legs were stretched contentedly under the table as he listened to them, complacent. It was obvious they had all relaxed, and that now would be the time to broach her intent. She cleared her throat, and they all looked at her, their eyes happier than they had been when they'd entered.

"That was some killer hot chocolate," Colin commented, smiling widely, "It was really delicious."

"Made my day..." Luna said, absently looking over to Blaise, who grunted in agreement.

"Thanks," Ginny said, suddenly overcome with happiness, "I've missed you guys."

Luna and Colin nodded, smiling small, reminiscing smiles. Blaise just looked out the window--but Ginny knew he had missed her, too.

There was a moment of silence, where all that could be heard was the murmuring of satisfied customers in the background; then, a clang from the kitchens. Ginny jumped, and Blaise's head snapped around. "What have you got back there?" Colin teased, "A muggle circus?"

Ginny laughed a little, before getting up and gathering their mugs onto her tray. "You guys can come back into the kitchens, if you want. Miranda is trying out a new recipe for sponge cake and she needs some guinea pigs." Colin and Luna didn't hesitate--they were into the kitchens before Ginny had taken a step towards the door. Blaise, however, remained seated.

"I don't fancy being a guinea pig," he said, looking up at her with a large smile.

She chuckled. "Didn't think you would. But I have something to talk to you three about, anyway."

He nodded his head. "Is it important?"

She rolled her eyes, placing a hand dramatically on his arm. "Do I ever have something important to say to you?"

"Nope," he grinned, before getting up and sauntering into the kitchen.

Ginny smiled. Reunited.

**Author's Note: Took a while in the coming. Not that I didn't have any time, just that I was suffering from some writer's block when it came to this story. "The Starbug" was sort of to help me get back into the mood for this. It worked fairly well :-) I hope the third chapter won't take too long; this chappy wasn't as lengthy as I'd of liked it to be. Nothing truly important happened, but now you know more about Ginny, and some about her friends. They'll all be pretty important in this story. **

**Next chappy by next week (hopefully). I have a nasty science test, however, so I'm not entirely sure. I'll try!**

**Read, Review!**

**Cheerio!**


	3. Revenge Over Hot Chocolate

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Three: Revenge Over Hot Chocolate

The first thing Colin and Luna did as their mouths sunk, with great exaggerated precision, into their crumbling slices of warm sponge cake, was droop blithely to the floor in utter contentedness. "Oooh, Miranda, that's divine," Colin claimed, looking at the plump girl with adoring eyes, "It's mouth wateringly good." Luna nodded her head animatedly in approval, her mouth filled with yet another bite. She looked as though she had tasted heaven.

The timid cook flushed in satisfaction, giggling as the two held their napkins out for further helpings. "It was Miss Ginny who gave me the recipe," she said, modestly.

"Needless to say, I could never make it myself," Ginny said, hopping atop her usual, vacant counter, "Miranda has hands for baking and all things sweet."

The cook blushed again, bustling further into the confines of the kitchen, murmuring shyly to herself. Hermione, who had already had her fill of the cake, sat blissfully with her back against a counter, knees bent and looking pleasantly drowsy. Blaise lingered to the right of her, leaning on a flour-covered cupboard that had been previously abandonned by Miranda, and Colin had settled himself on the tiled floor. He was evidently savouring every bite of the scrumptuous cake he had left. Luna came to sit next to Ginny on the counter, shuffling in close and leaning her head against the redhead's shoulder, lazily. Incredulously, Ginny found that those spikey braids weren't as dangerous as she'd assumed.

There was a moment of delightful peace in the kitchen, disturbed only by Miranda's constant movement in the background and the sounds of customers outside. The smoldering atmosphere settled in comfortably, the group filled with delicious thoughts of Miranda's cooking. Ginny found herself hesitant to break the quiet with her proposal, but she knew it would have to be done eventually. She had promised Hermione, after all, and if she didn't take this conquest seriously, she knew nobody else would. "I...I need you all to help me with something," Ginny said, her voice quiet. Her companions looked up at her, their attention given. "Last night...last night Hermione and Malfoy broke up." Ginny heard Hermione muffle a little sob at the words and saw confused, but obviously grateful, looks shot at her from around the room. "But, see, she--uh--they need to get back together somehow."

"Why?" Luna asked, blatantly. Ginny was most happy that someone else here shared her views on Hermione and Malfoy's relationship. She saw Colin nod at the question, obviously puzzled himself.

"Because we love each other!" Hermione broke in, her voice unsteady, "He loves me, and I love him. But...but he just can't see it yet!"

"That's the other part of the plan--"

"There's a plan?" Blaise broke in, mockingly.

Ginny shot him a look. "Yes, there's a plan. We have to get Hermione and Malfoy back together, and also show him how pointless is was to break up with her."

The silence was stifling. The smells of the kitchen wafted in around them, having a prolonged effect on their nerves. The warmth and deliciousness of the foods that were prepared, and the expectancy earned from those that were not, seemed to calm the atmosphere and make the whole idea seem a little less absurd. Ginny looked around at her group of friends, wondering, idly, what was going through their minds. Hermione looked utterly miserable, Colin and Luna looked pointedly and each other in disbelief, and Blaise was as stony as ever.

"So what do you want us to do, then?" Blaise asked, suddenly.

Ginny was surprised. He was the last person she'd thought would agree to something like this, especially since he and Malfoy were considered pretty chummy. But that was one of the things she needed here. She needed someone, other than Hermione, who was close to Malfoy. Who could tell her where he was, where he was going to be...

"Well, first of all we'll need to do some calling around. I'm not quite sure to whom, as yet, but I know we're going to have to do some research. The thing is to get a bit of revenge on Malfoy, you know, to make him look like a bit of an idiot, while at the same time making him see what an idiot he is." Some of the group grinned at this, becoming more open to the idea. "It's going to be like a game," Ginny continued, rallied on by the obvious growing support, "Except he won't know he's playing."

"But how do you play?" Colin asked, frowning.

"This will obviously take some planning," Luna, added, "Possibly more so than research."

"And I don't think we're going to be the only ones playing," Blaise nodded, "We'll need some allies."

Ginny looked over at Hermione, who was smiling thoughtfully. "Well, are you all busy this evening?"

There was some shuffling, a moment of unsurety, then a chorus of 'no's.

"Excellent, then," Ginny piped, "We all meet at my flat for some revenge over hot chocolate."

* * *

Ginny had boiled two pots of hot chocolate, set a charm on the pots that would keep the boiled liquid warm, and thrown some blankets onto her plushy sofas. Her flat was a pleasantly cozy place, modernized, while at the same time exuding a type of "single-working-female-lives-here" atmosphere. As you came in the door there was a small foyer, leading directly into her living room. In one corner was a small stone fireplace, surrounded by a circular, fire-proofed beige rug. Beyond that was a reddish coloured carpet, leading up to her fat-looking, sandy coloured sofas that, once sat in, seemed to suck you deeper into their chubby reccesses. The pillows were feather-stuffed affairs, a deep maroon colour; that being said, they were usually squished comfortably beneath a sleeping Mastiff, or scattered about her floor. Abstractly tasteful paintings (a fact that Ginny was oblivious to) hung from the walls, and two smaller side tables were each, respectfully, cluttered with mail, magazines, or a book or two. Beneath one pile of magazines, there was rumored to be a phone. The coffee table was glass-topped, decorated with a demure vase. Bookcases and a radio added to the room, until the carpet faded into the cream tiles of her black marble-themed kitchen.

From the the living room, you could make your way into a small, femininely decorated (thanks to Mrs. Weasley) powder room--and of course, the door to Ginny's largely chaotic bedroom and adjoining bathroom.

Hermione had gone back to her flat to get a change of clothes, and her other three conspirators had informed her they would arrive before six. Thus, Ginny found herself spread out across her couch, idly browsing through a random magazine she had picked up. The crumpled blanket she had thrown over this sofa (for the benefit of her friends, once they arrived) proved a bit uncomfortable to lay on, but she found herself too lazy to move it. Ivan plodded over to her, putting one large paw up on the couch near where her hand fell limply. "Hi, boy," she told him, looking over fondly. She had always loved dogs, but had never exactly seen herself a dog owner. Ivan, her large baby, had been acquired two years ago, just after she and Harry had separated. Of course, the two were still friends--if that was what you could call it. It was awkward between them, now, with the knowledge of what they had shared still lingering; but, at least, they could still have a few smiles together.

Ivan, Ginny figured, had been her rebound--and now, she needed no other man in her life. As soon as she'd brought home that chubby and mischevious five month old Mastiff, Ginny knew she'd neither have the heart, nor the time, to tolerate another male. So (and Ginny always smiled at this thought), as, in the past two years, she had made her love of being single evident, poor Mrs. Weasley had been subject to many nights of worry. Typically, Ginny would sympathize with her pleasant mother, and date someone just for her satisfaction--but this time, Ginny just found it amusing, if not a bit annoying. Numerous set-ups and introductions to the sons of "family friends" she had never met before later, Ginny Weasley had finally had "the talk" with her mother. And, though the woman obviously found it perplexing as to why any girl Ginny's age would not value companionship, Ginny had made it clear that all the companionship she needed was in the form of a rapidly growing, slobbery brindle dog.

The doorbell rang, and Ginny dropped her magazine onto the already crowded sidetable. She headed towards the door, opening it for a flushed Hermione. It had already started to drizzle a bit, and from where she was standing Ginny could feel a good lot of the cold wind that had likely been biting at Hermione's cheeks. Hermione had grown into an attractive woman--not beautiful, but pretty in her own way. She had long, curling tendrils of chocolate brown hair, large cinnamon brown eyes and a figure to die for. Not only this, but she held a prominent Ministry job, one that allowed her to showcase her intelligence. She, Harry and Ron were still the best of friends, and Hermione had developed an irrevocable bond with Ginny, as well. Now, the two were best friends--and had been for what seemed to be the longest while. Hermione, despite her alliance with Harry, had been supportive of Ginny during the breakup, while also managing to comfort Harry. In a way, Hermione and Ron were the only reason Harry and Ginny had remained in contact.

"Damn, it's getting cold out there," Ginny commented, as Hermione removed her shoes and padded, sock-clad, into the living room. The brunette dropped, exhausted, onto one of the couches, quickly curling up with a blanket over her.

"Figures, too," she said, in a dazed sort of way, "Winter's coming up so quickly this year."

Ginny headed to the kitchen, scooping out a mug full of hot chocolate for Hermione, and adding her ingredients. "Here," she said, walking around the island and to where the girl was sitting, "It'll warm you up." Hermione smiled her grateful way, as Ginny snuggled in next to her. Hermione looked a lot better than she had last night. Ginny figured taking her to the café had worked a few miracles; being around other people, for one--and, of course, Miranda's therapeutic goodies. Now, at least, the girl looked emotionally stable, and tons fresher in her changed clothes.

"Thanks for being there for me, Gin," Hermione said, suddenly, and Ginny saw a flicker of the Hermione she was used to, "I mean, what with running in on you at three in the morning."

Ginny smiled, "It's no problem. I owe it to you, anyway. I'm sure you had to put up with more, after me and Harry broke up."

Hermione was about to reply, when the doorbell rang. Ginny got up to open it, only to find that Blaise had already unlocked it and stepped in. He was like that, she knew, the Slytherin arrogance having not grown out of him. Undoubtedly, he felt that what was hers was his--although what was his would definitely not be hers. "Somebody's being awfully rude," she teased, one knee still on the sofa as she looked up at him standing in her doorway.

"Well, it was cold out there and it's started to rain," he said, removing his gloves and placing them in his pockets, as he pulled his feet out of his boots, "And you were taking too long, anyway." He removed his jacket, throwing it onto one of the hooks on the wall.

"You didn't even give me a chance to get to the door," Ginny said, sitting back down as he closed it behind him and stepped into her living room, taking a seat on one of the other sofas and tossing the blanket to the side. He looked royal, even as he sat there with his dark hair windswept. His winter green eyes glittered, and Ginny found her breath hitched. He looked like a Greek Adonis, his dark attire contrasting with the pale skin and bright, electric eyes.

"Well, I wanted in quickly," he said, winking at her playfully, before quietly acknowledging Hermione. The two of them would, without question, still be on the rocks; like Luna and Colin, Hermione had never had to face Ginny's other kind of friends. And now that she had Malfoy had just broken up, Ginny was sure Blaise's airy arrogance and charming smirks would remind Hermione, itchingly, of her lost love.

Ginny knowingly served him his hot chocolate, complete with mint and just as he was taking his first sip of the steaming liquid, Colin and Luna arrived--together, giving Ginny the fleeting thought of whether or not they had taken up dating...They removed their jackets and came to sit, quickly being given their own mugs. Ginny also took a cup of the chocolatey substance before going back to sit with them; it would help her think through the evening ahead.

"Okay," Blaise said, setting his mug on the coffee table in front of him. He stretched out his legs, as seemed to be his habit after drinking hot chocolate, and leaned back into the sofa. "We need to plot against Malfoy. How exactly do we intend to do this?"

Ginny took a breath, "Well, I had the idea of setting him up with different girls, to, you know, get him to see how great Hermione is."

Blaise thought for a second, and Ginny found herself wondering if he would approve of this idea. "It'll work," he said, still thoughtful, "After he breaks up with a girl, he's always at bars and night clubs looking for some fun." Hermione choked a little, but Blaise continued, "He'll usually keep his fun for about a week before he gets rid of her, the longest he'll stay with one is two weeks, if she's good."

"Let he get this straight," Hermione said, "He has escapades with women after breaking up a longterm relationship?"

Colin scoffed in the background, and Luna, who had curled up next to Ginny, rolled her eyes. "Pretty much," Blaise said, "He says that after being tied down to one girl for so long, he wants to have more than one over short periods of time before pursuing a girl he really likes. Basically, he sleeps with an amazing number of women within the course of a month or so, then chooses one he really likes and calls her back."

"What a prick," Luna commented, almost boredly, "Must have been bitten by a Snufflelorg when he was little. It causes flightiness in relationships."

Nobody said anything to this comment, but Colin asked, "But where are we going to find girl willing to be dreadful _and_ sleep with Malfoy?"

"Willing to be dreadful shouldn't be too hard," Ginny said, her mind flashing several names, "We can get some of the old girls from Hogwarts to help us out. Lavendar, Parvati..."

"But will they sleep with him?" Luna prodded.

"They don't _have_ to," Blaise added, abruptly, "Part of the weeklong ritual is the chase. Malfoy enjoys a good chase. It's like his own brand of foreplay; the more a girl plays hard to get, the more she flirts with him, the hotter the sex afterwards."

Hermione scowled, evidently disconcerted by this news.

"That's really a terrible philosophy," Ginny said, her mouth twisting bitterly. She sipped her hot chocolate, thinking.

"Well, the guy enjoys angry sex," Blaise said, chuckling slightly, "Who can blame him?"

Ginny swore she could see Colin grin a little.

"But how exactly do we go about asking people to help us out?" Luna questioned, "I would ask my dad to put an add in the Quibbler, but I don't fancy that would work."

"I'll owl them, then we'll interview them all independantly," Ginny said, proud of her idea, "I'll treat them at The Burrow, as a bonus prompt."

There were a few laughs from around the room. "That'll work for sure," Colin said, grinning widely.

"...but they all have to be terrible," Hermione said, "How do we make sure they're terrible?"

"Malfoy has certain peeves about women," Blaise answered, "He has, sort of, a top five list of things he cannot stand in a date--though he's willing to overlook them for sex." There were a few grimaces around the room. "I can introduce you all to his list, and each girl we set up with him can use a different peeve to piss him off in excess. We'll have to make sure that for the whole month that will bracket his rebound, he goes out with only the girls of our choice. And they don't sleep with him at all, or in excess, or...properly."

"So by the end of the month he'll be so sexually frustrated and pissed off with the women in his dating pool..." Ginny started.

"He'll realise what a jewel he had in Hermione," Colin finished.

"Perfect," Luna quipped, "Now we just have to find excessively attractive women, discover Malfoy's favorite haunts, and find something for Hermione to do in the meanwhile."

Hermione looked puzzled, "I have to do something in the meanwhile?"

There was an unsure silence, then Ginny had it. "Of course you have to do something, Herms," Ginny said, grinning, "And that something is named Ron Weasley.

**Author's Note: Alas, it's finished. Thanks to everyone whose reviewed so far; sorry if the characters seemed OoC. I'm trying to imagine what they'd seem like older. None of the pairings have really become apparent yet, but you all know where the main one is going ;-P (though I haven't let on how, yet, have I?) Fourth chappy, hopefully, next week. Read and Review!**


	4. Attempting to Advance Over Hot Chocolate

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Four: Attempting to Advance Over Hot Chocolate

Ron Weasley had not grown into _the _most strapping of lads, although by some he was considered quite charming. He worked as a retired Auror/Ministry administrator (since there was very little mayhem to be dealt with now that Voldemort was gone), got paid a decent salary for what action he sustained and lived in a small, extremely disorderly apartment. He hadn't had a proper girlfriend since Hogwarts, and people would oft say that Hermione Granger had broken his heart. Tall and wirey, with his rugged red hair and two good natured blue eyes (not to mention best friend of the ever popular Harry Potter), many girls would fight tooth and nail to have a chance with him. However, he seemed content to live out his young adulthood in a grove of solitude (punctured only by frequent nights out with bachelor friends). No, Ron Weasley was not antisocial, nor did he brood over his supposed heartbreak. He enjoyed much of his life, drinking Butterbeers and watching Quidditch with other males, as well as roaming lazily about his disorganised apartment.

His flavour was very particular, which is why on Sunday morning, Ginny made sure she had it perfected before pouring it into a Muggle thermos (it was amazing what these people could do without magic), and setting off, Colin in tow, to his apartment. He lived in a Muggle area (who didn't, these days?), on the second floor of a five story building. It was very close to the original Burrow, meaning it was also close to Mrs. Weasley's warm hearth and home cooked food. Ideally, it was the perfect place for someone as independant as Ronald to abide; where the Burrow was a convenient Apparate, and Diagon Alley could be accessed within seconds.

The flavour was bittersweet chocolate and a tiny bit of orange zest. He liked his chocolate shaken, not stirred, so that it became bubbly at the top rather than frothy. He had always been very particular about what he ate (or drank), and this Ginny knew for a fact. After around seventeen years of living in the same house as him, Ginny fancied she knew his habits very well. She also knew that he would be a very hard shell to crack when it came to convincing him to carry out what she had in mind. Already, the idea had been posed to Hermione, whose eyes had simply widened in horror, her oval lips choking out, "But he's my best friend!"

Blaise and Luna had been left together at the café to compile a list of names for Ginny to owl and to specify a list of Malfoy's peeves. Miranda would make sure they were well taken care off--and Luna, Ginny knew, wouldn't cause any trouble with the Slytherin. Whereas Colin might be easily provoked by his witty remarks, Luna was thankfully mild enough to tolerate him. And if Ginny had left the friendly Colin and Luna together and taken Blaise with her instead, her fiery red-headed brother might have had a aneurysm at the prospect of his sister with such a monster, and that monster in his home.

Not surprisingly, Ron welcomed them in wearing nothing but his boxers. His hair was sticking up in all different directions and Ginny could smell his morning breath, even though he was drastically taller than her. It was late on a Sunday morning, and Ginny had anticipated he would be fast asleep at the time of their arrival, which would hopefully be more instrumental in his decision. Meaning, she hoped the fact that he was still half asleep would make him more easily persuaded to play the role Ginny needed him to play. Muttering them in, he padded barefoot into his room, returning with a shirt on just as Colin and Ginny sat down in his plushy, clothing covered couch, having had to dodge the many pairs of shoes strewn about the floor.

The place smelt vaguely of old socks to Ginny, and it had a lonely, almost empty, feel to it (despite the fact that things were thrown about every where, and not an inch had been spared), but Colin seemed right at home. It appeared that all males had a similar way in which they lived, a fact of life that Ginny was just barely coming to terms with. As Ron stumbled into the chair across from her, she found herself wondering what Blaise's flat might look like. Conjuring up a mug from his kitchen, Ginny poured Ron some chocolate as he continued to quarrell quietly to himself, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Pushing it towards him, he haphazardly took a sip, the drink seeming to steady his motions and allow his eyes to focus further on his guests.

"What are you doin' here so early in the mo?" he questioned, hazily, murmuring into his mug.

The drink was having the desired effect, and Ginny, Ron being her brother and all, decided to skip the formalities and cut right to the chase. Colin stifled a laugh as she leaned forward, causing sleepy-headed Ron to jerk and spill some chocolate down his shirt. He didn't seem to mind, so Ginny continued, "We need you to date Hermione for a while."

Ron's eyes opened wide mid-swallow, and Ginny cursed as she saw the exhaustion clear into disbelief, shock. Then, he began to laugh, just about spitting hot chocolate all over both Ginny and Colin. "You guys," he said, chuckling heartily, and thwapping Colin on the shoulder none too gently, "are bloody hilarious!"

Sheepishly, Ginny took her wand out, cleaning both herself and Colin, as Colin explained. "Actually, we're serious," he said amiably.

Ron sobered immediately, his eyes flashing something akin to anger. "Oh, sod off Creevey. It's not nice to make jokes about that kind of thing."

Ginny thought she saw a moment of hurt in his eyes, but then it was gone. "We're not joking. We...need you to at least _pretend_ to be dating Hermione."

Ron rolled his eyes, obviously trying to contain himself, whether from laughter or anger, Ginny couldn't be sure. "Why would I need to do that? She's dating Malfoy, anyways. They're going to be married, soon enough." He sounded bitter, and for a second Ginny wondered if he was really the right person to be asking.

"She and Malfoy broke up--"

"Oh?" he said, suddenly thoughtful, "Does she know about this?"

He seemed almost hopeful. "Yeah, we asked her already," Ginny said, remembering with a wince Hermione's incredulous reaction, and how she was currently brooding away in her flat, waiting for further news on the issue, "She's agreed to play along."

"Play along?" abruptly, he was angry again, "So what am I? A game or something? Her _replacement_?"

He had disregarded his hot chocolate. It now sat, steaming on the table before him, and Ginny didn't know if she'd be able to get some into his mouth. "Look," Colin said, with more gentleness than Ginny felt she could have mustered, "We just need to you pretend to be dating her. Look at it as a joke. It's only in public anyways, if Malfoy is around."

Ron seemed deflated. "A joke, then?" He murmured quietly to himself for a while, seemingly deep in thought. "A joke..."

"It won't be for long," Ginny assured him, put off because he wouldn't look her in the eye. Instead, he picked up his mug, took a sip and then studied the contents intently.

"I'll...I'll tell you later," he said, looking up and giving a weak smile, "You caught me at a bad time." He got up to leave, but halfway there he paused. "Don't tell Hermione I reacted like that." He walked, dejectedly, back into his room, and Ginny heard the springs in his bed creak.

Colin looked to her as they were leaving, the thermos left on Ron's coffee table, still filled with warmed hot chocolate. "Your brother is in love with Hermione, you know that right?"

Ginny shrugged. "Maybe," she thought for a second, "I think we should ask someone else to play this role, then. Ron is obviously too moody for it." They closed the door to his old-sock-smelling apartment behind them, and Ginny wondered if she had come across the reason it seemed so empty.

* * *

Ginny and Colin hadn't been gone more than five minutes before Miranda bustled her glorious self out of the kitchen (having had one of her assistants temporarily man the kitchens), to present Luna and Blaise with mugs of hot chocolate and cool cheesecake, topped with warmed cherry syrup. Luna reached for a mug, her fingers brushing Blaise's hand as he reached for his. A spark shot up her body, one that she dutifully ignored. She inhaled the hot drink, her nose wrinkling when she was not presented with the familiar smell of tangerines; quickly, she snuck a glance at Blaise to find that he wore a similar expression. This stuff didn't even have whipped cream on it! Nevertheless, she took a sip, grateful for the warm liquid. 'Ginny really does have a gift,' she mused to herself, 'Hot chocolate just isn't as great without her.' Kindly, she thanked Miranda, though only really meant it after her first bite of the succulent cheesecake. 

"So," Blaise said after a while. Luna had been enjoying the silence, garnished only by their breathing and the sound of forks hitting plates. It was relatively early on a Sunday morning, meaning there weren't many people at The Burrow, yet. Thus, Luna and Blaise were very practically alone, sitting quietly near the window with only themselves for company. "I suppose we should get to work," he said, and Luna found herself marvelling at his baritone voice.

"Yes," she affirmed, careful not to let her admiration slip into her eyes, or voice. She was a very good actor, and for this she often found herself thankful. "I suppose we should start with Malfoy's peeves. Then move on to who we should have Ginny owl."

It was quiet again, for a moment, and Luna was in awe of the fact that she didn't feel in the least awkward. The only other people who had never considered her weird, and made her feel like it, were her family, Ginny and Colin. Maybe, Zabini wouldn't be so bad after all. He nodded at her statement. "Yes."

He pulled a piece of paper and a self-inking quille out of his bag, brushing a strand of hair that had been teasing his forehead away. Luna sighed to herself, and he looked up questioningly. "That's a very attractive strand of hair." Her voice sounded plain and shameless, but Luna could see a little smile form on his lips. He didn't make any move to fix the hair back into its original place, but as he bowed his head to write, it fell back, a black ribbon against his pale skin. He didn't brush it away again.

From where she sat, she could see his line of neat handwriting, carefully scripted in black ink. There was another silence, where she downed the rest of her hot chocolate, leaning back against her chair. She shifted her feet beneath the table, hurriedly placing them back when she knocked into his outstretched legs. "Sorry," she murmured, even though she wasn't really sorry. He tilted his head slightly, but continued to write. 'Gosh,' Luna thought, 'I wonder if that rumour about Veelas biting people is real...then maybe I should ask him if one ever bit him. I fancy that would explain a bit.'

She told herself that she had been about to ask him, but he spoke first. Luna was not a coward, but for some reason he made her a little--just a little--nervous. "Well, here they are," he said, sliding the paper over to her side of the small, round table. She met him halfway, their fingers brushing to send the hairs on the back of Luna's arm up again. She scanned the points quickly.

_5. Orders the most expensive thing on the menu...and doesn't eat much._

_4. Doesn't leave after sex, just lays there expecting to be cuddled and talked to._

_3. Only cators for self during sex, then leaves._

_2. Thinks relationship is going somewhere._

_1. All of the above._

By the time she was finished, there was a small smile itching her lips. "These are, surprisingly, quite valid," Luna said, looking up to find his wintery green eyes looking intently at her. It startled her a bit, but she returned the gaze.

"Really?" he asked, boredly. But Luna could see the interest in his eyes.

"Yeah," she said, smiling ruefully, "If someone orders the most expensive thing, they should definitely eat it."

"Would you like to be left alone after sex, though?" he asked, quite blatantly, and Luna could see his eyes glitter. She fought down a blush, her eyes falling in what she hoped was a contemplative way to his interlaced fingers.

"Well, I suppose not," it felt strange saying aloud, to someone like him, "But some people do." She found herself thinking he had nice hands.

"...I don't."

The comment made her shift uncomfortably in her seat, and when she looked up to his face, he was smirking satisfactorily. "Oh," she said, flinching when she sounded breathless. There was another silence, and now, even though Luna tried with all her might to make it seem awkward, or strange, it just felt uncannily comfortable. She blinked a few times, before she figured her composure had been successfully regained. "We need five separate girls then," she said, happy to have thought of a topic changer.

"Girls--?"

"One for each peeve," she cut him off before he could say anything sarcastic. She could have already sensed the sarcasm waiting in his voice. Idly, she told him, "You have two types of voices. One is normal, though it has different facets. The other is sarcastic, and it's very one-sided and uninteresting." She saw him gape, offended, out of the corner of her eye, but continued back onto subject. "I suppose I could play one girl, and Ginny could play another. So, really, we only need three girls."

There was another silence. It was obviously Blaise's turn to regain his composure. "Did you just insult me, Lovegood?" he asked, and she could hear his voice dripping incredulity. It wasn't an angry voice, it was a disbelieving one.

"This is your normal voice. I like it," she paused, "Sometimes, the truth hurts."

For the first time, she saw him smile--grin--a large, wide and thoroughly dazzling smile that made her smile, too.

They sorted out what they had to, and Blaise didn't try anymore sarcastic remarks on her. Luna was greatful for that, because she knew that, if engaged in a battle of wits with him, she would most definitely lose. For some reason, she didn't want to lose to him...much. It was a strange feeling that grew in the pit of her stomach--so strange, in fact, that she was afraid that if she let it take over for even a second, it would wholly consume her. Of course, all of this was abandonned once they engaged in an argument about whether the myth about Re'em blood could actually be true. To Luna's surprise, Blaise was very well informed about the beasts. One day, she mused, he might even be able to argue her out of believing that their blood could, if drunk in copious amounts, turn a wizard into a Runespoor. After all, in areas where the blood was drunk, there had been an increase in missing persons _and_ in Runespoors.

That aside, she would always testify that the reason their hands continued to brush together throughout the course of the morning was because Miranda had been tricked into placing thankfully dormant (and gratefully deceased, once they reached a human stomach) Streeler eggs into the cheesecake batter. Not that she would blame the poor woman, but you know, you had to be _really_ careful these days.

**Author's Note: Voila! I hope you guys liked it...I think something is becoming apparent :-o ! Next chapter, hopefully next week. Read annndd REVIEW, please :-) Also, if you have the book "Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them", you will know what I'm talking about when I say Re'em, Runespoor and Streeler. Read up on'em ! Hope nothing was too OoC. **

**Again, do review!**


	5. An Unsavory Trip to Knockturn

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Five: An Unsavory Trip to Knockturn

Ginny sat, decidedly comfortable, at her old desk, tracing her fingers idly across the grooved, mahogany wood. In front of her was a list of Malfoy's peeves, all of which she found pointedly shallow, as well as a list of ex-Hogwarts candidates. She had been initially aghast to find that she and Luna had been marked as pretend-dates for Malfoy, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. The less people who knew about their little plan, the less chance Malfoy had of hearing something that would alert him to it. Not to mention the fact that it would be awfully hard to find people to agree to something like this, and Ginny found herself strangely willing to go through with it. 'If only,' she mused, 'for the pleasure of making an ass out of Malfoy.'

So she had to write three letters, to three girls, all of which had been extremely friendly with her during her Hogwarts years. Ginny remembered them fondly; pretty Hannah Abott with her generous chest, blonde hair and slightly airheaded nature; exotic Parvati Patil with her deep brown eyes and curvy figure; and of course preppy, brunette Lavender whose dirty mind fuelled their games back then. They were the perfect selections--Ginny had to give it to Luna and Blaise. They worked strangely well together, and Luna had evidently remembered the way the group of them had enjoyed causing trouble back in the day. It would be easy to convince them to participate (although Ginny grimaced with the knowledge that some might be overly enthusiastic with the idea of it being a Malfoy), and Ginny knew she could trust them with this mission. All three were huge fans of her hot chocolate, and though they had all moved out into slightly more rural areas, when they did visit London they made sure to stop by The Burrow.

Then The Burrow would be their interviewing station. Miranda's cool cheesecake and Ginny's hot chocolate would serve to better commit them to their tasks. The only real thinking Ginny would have to do would be as to which task to assign them. More than a few of the tasks involved sex--and while Malfoy was notoriously good-looking, Ginny didn't know if she (or Hermione) would be pleased asking other females to sleep with him. Not to mention Malfoy's number one peeve..._All of the above_. Ginny wondered what girl would volunteer to be _that_ nasty, with a Malfoy nonetheless.

'I'll just have to get Hermione's help on this one,' she thought. The idea of Hermione choosing who got to do what with the young Malfoy made Ginny a little bit more comfortable with this whole idea. That meant that she didn't have to choose who did '_All of the above_'...or any of the other tasks involving a little bit more than normal physical contact.

Ginny rummaged in her drawers for a moment, finally fishing out a quille and a pot of ink. She spread three pieces of parchment out before her, and set three envelopes aside. Pigwidgeon, her loyal but annoying owl, stood expectantly upon his perch, as he always did when Ginny sat down to write a letter to someone or the other. Today he flitted excitedly as her quille touched the yellow paper, and she begun her first letter...

_Dear Hannah,_

_It has been a while, hasn't it? But, well, you see; Hermione is having a bit of a dilemma--just a little trouble. She and Malfoy have split up and we're planning a sort of revenge on him. But to do it, we need your help. If you can come to The Burrow sometime this week (really any time is good), we can give you the details and you can see if you want to help. _

_Yours, _

_Ginny._

The other three letters were written in much the same format--Ginny didn't want to make them too long or personal, or too revealing. It would be better to tell the girls about it face to face, over a cup of nice, steaming hot chocolate. That way, they wouldn't make up their minds too soon.

Once she had strapped all three letters to Pig and thrown him unceremoniously out the window, Ginny watched him fly off into the gloomy evening. It was around seven o'clock, maybe a little later, and she had spent most of this day with her fellow conspirators at The Burrow. The first problem they had been faced with was Ron's rejection of "play-dating" Hermione. It was an awful shame, of course, since a Weasley dating his ex would have served to rile up Malfoy during his week-long cat-and-mouse game of frustration with each different girl--but they would have to move on. Another wizard (hopefully a dashing one, who Malfoy disliked with some passion) would have to be procured in his place.

Then, she and Blaise had sat in the kitchens while the others helped out poor Miranda (their help revolved mainly around eating the goodies before they reached the actual customers), or helping Ginny's constantly grinning waiters do their job as the shop became busy. Blaise had given her a thorough verbal list of Malfoy's frequent haunts; they included a number of trendy clubs that, to Ginny's horror, would be _horribly difficult_ to get just anyone into. There was their second problem. Some bribery would have to be done to someone or another, or Blaise (from a the rich, prominent Slytherin family), would have to escort the girls in himself. That had the potential to blow their cover if Blaise was seen constantly at Draco's outings and constantly with the girls he was expected pursue.

And then there was the other issue of needing some way to monitor the candidates' progress without violating their privacy. Considering the fact that some of the peeves involved sex, this would be difficult. As well, the fact that the "missions" may last for a week or so each, they needed a way to contact the girl in question without alerting Malfoy to their presence. That, Hermione had assured that, could be done with some spell or another--though which she was not exactly sure. Ginny had then given her the job of finding this "some spell or another"--and fast, too. They would have to work with undue speed to catch Malfoy as he started his rebound-dating. If some other girl caught his interest before one of theirs did, it might ruin their plan altogether. The idea was to show Malfoy there was no one in his range who satisfied him like Hermione did. If even one girl could do this, it would defeat the whole purpose of their plan.

Still, Ginny was awfully tired. Despite the fact that it was still early, she found herself craving the bed like a drug. It occured to her that she, now that the letters were sent, had the chance to catch up on her sleep, and she quickly embraced the idea. Not bothering to change her clothing, she made sure that Ivan was asleep himself (fore he always jumped onto the bed right next to her if he caught her making her way towards it), and firmly plopped herself onto the silky sheets.

It's safe to say that she had not a thought after that.

* * *

That morning, Ginny was at The Burrow early, as usual. Mondays always tended to be busy--what with people coming out to do their shopping and all the shops open and bustling with life (and therefore with employees longing for something cool to drink and sweet to eat). She and Miranda, who was as loyal to the shop as Ginny was, worked efficiently at serving customers and by the time Luna, Blaise and Colin trickled in, the initial hustle of opening up for the day had died down. Now the early birds hummed with satisfaction, their bags filled with haggled purchases and their mouths with sponge cake just out the oven.

Colin yawned and spoke first, "You sent the letters, already?" Ginny grinned and nodded the affirmative as she pushed some caffeinated (and delicious) drink into his hand. "Then what now?"

Luna lounged lazily against the counter, Blaise eyeing her peculiarly from across the room where he leant against the wall. "We wait," she said, smiling thoughtfully, "For them to come."

"I guess we should decide who gets what peeve," Ginny posed, as she took a seat on a wooden stool, leaning her hands onto the counter at the back for support, "But I think Hermione should be here for that." Nevertheless, Ginny pulled the crinkled list of peeves out of her back jeans pocket, spreading it out on her lap. "Anyone _know_ where Hermione is?"

As if on cue, the rumpled looking brunette burst into the kitchen, waving about a sheet of paper triumphantly. Blaise gave a start and almost hit himself against the door, as he had been lounging closeby, but no one but Luna seemed to notice. The girl looked like she had not slept a wink last night, her clothes wrinkled and dark bags beneath her eyes--if Ginny had not seen the glorious smile on her face, she would have thought her friend had reverted back to crying over the Malfoy. "I _found_ it," Hermione started breathlessly, "The _perfect_ potion for our little plan. It was _made_ for us!"

"Calm down, Herms," Ginny said, smiling at her slightly eccentric friend, "Did you spend all night looking for it?"

Hermione flushed. "Well...yes. Sort of, anyway. I got carried away with this one other potion--it was absolutely fascinating--" she caught herself, clearing her throat and getting back on track, "Anyway. It's great, a lovely potion, perfect for what we had in mind. The user has to take it every other day, but it can only be used for one person at a time. You have to put something physical, like a hair, in, then the Potion allows you to see what that person is seeing, and hear what happening around them--but only if they allow it. They can block out certain things if they're too--" Hermione hesitated, "private. It's reflected in the surface of a mirror--sort of like a movie!" There was a barrage of confused looks from around the room--only Colin seemed to know what she was talking about.

"Well, it sounds easy enough," Ginny said, uncertainly. It sounded like a good idea. But there had to be some catch.

"Only thing is..." Ah, there it was. "The mirror--it has to be a special kind of mirror. But, I've looked into it. There's one selling in Knockturn Alley--I-I don't mind paying for it at all. In fact, I've brought along the money, it's-it's just that I don't want to go to Knockturn, you know, alone..."

Ginny looked at her watch. "Well, I suppose I could go with you, if we go now. Everyone's served and Miranda won't be on my tail until more people come in--but we still have the issue of choosing who gets what peeve."

"Ugh, we can do it later! I know if I don't drag you along now, Miranda will get you!" Hermione was already, at this point tugging Ginny out of the kitchen door. The other three looked on with amusement, saying that they were staying behind to help Miranda do some cooking. Once out in the street, the two girls had to hold on to eachother tightly so as to not get lost. It was packed full of morning shoppers who pushed you this way and that in their quest to be the first to some shop or another. However, the two girls somehow managed to make it to the intersection between Diagon Alley and Knockturn, standing hesitantly at the street sign.

It was easy to make out where Knockturn Alley began and Diagon Alley ended--on this side, only a few shady looking witches and wizards made their way along the cobbled street; even though Voldemort had been defeated, Dark Arts still flourished in some parts of the wizarding community. Here was notoriously one of them. Ginny could understand with fascinating clarity why Hermione would not want to come alone. The shops were oily looking affairs, with large windows displaying a number of crude or gory looking objects--always on black velvet cushions. Between the shops were dark, shadowed alleyways that occassionally echoed the disconcerting noises of something unspeakable. To top off all of this, even the sun (which had aspired to come out today), seemed a little reluctant to shine on this part of the street.

Hermione cleared her throat and bravely took the first step in, tugging Ginny along with her. As they went, Ginny eyed, with a certain amount of disgust, the different shops and their various displays. It was morbidly fascinating, some of these objects, and despite herself, she was eerily curious. Suddenly, something strolled swiftly into her shoulder, causing her arm to jarr and her body to turn. She yelped, and the sound was clear in the quiet of Knockturn. Hermione did not seem to notice, but Ginny frowned at the tall, black-clad figure, who turned at the sound of her voice. She came face to face with Draco Malfoy, and he seemed to stop in mid-step, turning around to eye her curiously. His silver eyes flashed some emotion that she could not make out, and his lips curved into a smirk. He mocked an apologetic bow, visibly baiting her, still standing with his head slightly cocked, as Ginny staggered along farther away from him, pulled by an oblivious Hermione.

Finally, Ginny turned away, a half-hearted sneer on her face. She walked with Hermione a little faster--she had not liked the look on his face one bit. He was truly a git (a bit of a handsome git, though this she denied), and although she could not fathom why Hermione would want him back, the notion that this plan would make him look like an idiot fuelled her determination to carry through with it.

Finally, they reached the store Hermione claimed would have this mirror--and Ginny shivered. Just standing in front of it was slightly perturbing--the aura that came off it was not a pleasant one. It was called "The First-born Son Brewery" and in the display window was an array of jars--all of which contained something--something that looked disturbingly like fetuses--floating in clear liquids. "Herms, you sure this is the store?"

"Yup," Hermione said, but she did not sound eager. The two approached the door. The handle was in the shape of a gargoyle baring its teeth, and Hermione refused to touch it. Grimacing, Ginny pulled it open, and as they stepped in, the cheery beeping that alerted cashiers that someone had entered went off, sounding warped and out of place in this atmosphere. The interior of the shop was as disturbing as its exterior, if not more. It was carpeted with a sickly kind of maroon color and the shelved walls were all home to jars and vials of substances. They ranged from sparkling liquids to gooey gels that squirmed like something living and made your stomach turn--in one jar, Ginny fancied she saw Acromantula legs trying to escape. She decided to stop looking around then and there.

"Helloooo," a high and sickly sweet voice cooed from the counter--it was only then Ginny saw a disgusting, frog-like man peering at them with large, watery eyes. "How may I heeeelp the preeeetties today?" His tongue slobbered out of his mouth, licking his lips in a grotesque display of saliva.

"We're looking for the Fateor Mirror." Hermione's voice sounded confident, though Ginny could hear a slight waver in it.

"Aaahh, the Fateor Mirrorrr," he purred, his eyes lighting up, "Wee have twoo in stock, but I cannot jussst give it tooo you."

"We have five galleons," Hermione said, holding up her purse and allowing the coins inside to clink against eachother, "That's all it's worth."

The man's eyes visibly brightened once again. "Yesss, but mee, I wantss something, tooo."

Hermione breathed deeply and sighed, then looked sick. The air smelt pungent and disgusting, and something clinked against its jar on the shelf to her left. "What do you want?" she asked, looking like she wanted nothing more than to get out of the store.

"Welll, yourr friend has haiir the color of fiiiire," the man cooed, eyeing Ginny lustfully, "A lock of herr haiiir would suffice..."

Hermione looked to Ginny, her eyes wide. It was obvious what she was thinking--Ginny could read it in her eyes: _Let's get __**out**__ of here_. "If I give you a lock of my hair, will you give us the mirror and let us be on our way?"

"Yessss," the man cooed, holding his hand out expectantly. It was knarled and warty and Ginny groaned. She took her wand out of her robe pocket, pulling some of her hair from the back to the front where she could see it. She had plenty of hair. A lock of it wouldn't make a difference.

"Ginny," Hermione started, but Ginny looked at her meaningfully. They had started on this _stupid_ plan, and Ginny intended to see it through. Even if it meant giving some perverted, nasty little man a lock of her hair. She cut off a little from the end, then placed it in the sickly palm of the man. He closed his fingers around it quickly, brushing her skin and then giving her a meaningful and repulsive smile.

"Ugh," Ginny muttered as the man also accepted the five galleons out of Hermione's purse and ventured to the back of the shop to bring them the mirror. "What a disgusting human being," Ginny said quietly to Hermione. There was some shifting around at the back before the man reappeared, holding in his hands a fairly large parcel wrapped in cream cloth.

"Heree it isss," the man said, placing it on the counter and unwrapping it slightly so that part of the mirror and a line of symbols were visible.

Hermione traced her hand over the symbols before nodding, "Yes, this is it." She took it from the man's hands, clutching it against her chest as she turned to go. Ginny turned with her.

They were half-way out the door when they heard the nauseating goodbye of the frog-man, "Kisssss kissss preeeettiess."

**Author's Note: Woo...this took a long time. I blame it mainly on homework, not having enough time, and a sort of writer's block only concerning this story. Anyway, hopefully now the ideas will begin to flow more clearly. Alas, in this chapter we get a little glimpse of Mr. Draco Malfoy. I'm afraid you'll have to wait a little longer for things to really heat up with him, though. Mostly the next few chapters will be with organising; but once the datesss begin...steam. Also, rest assured that this is a Draco/Ginny fic, despite the fact that he's Hermione's man so far. Everything will, with some difficulty, work itself out because, frankly, Hermione/Draco is up there with ships I hate (the only other being Harry/Ginny). **

**Love love, leave ****reviews**** to encourage the writing process ;-P**

**Cheers!**


	6. The Patil Twins, Over Hot Chocolate

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Six: The Patil Twins, Over Hot Chocolate

Ginny had not failed to notice the nervous way Hermione hurried out of Knockturn Alley, ocassionally glancing back at the seemingly unconcerned redhead she held on to. The sidewalks had not changed, for all the time they had spent in that grimy shop, yet Ginny found herself feeling that anywhere was better than in there with that _creepy_ little man. For a matter of fact, she knew exactly what was running through Hermione's bushy head right now, and she half dreaded stepping out into the bustling noise of Diagon, where Hermione would be able to fearlessly confront her.

Despite herself, Ginny continued to look around the dark alleys between the shops, though she made sure she watched where she was headed this time. She could not help but remember Malfoy's sudden, unexpected impact with her form--and she was happy to say she had learnt her lesson when it came to two moving beings colliding. She rolled her eyes, remembering his arrogant smirk and mock bow. She'd get him with that the next time she saw him. Definitely.

Her mind wandered to the package clutched against Hermione's chest, and she vaguely wondered if they should have performed a Shrinking Charm on it, just to make it less conspicuous. After all, they were still in Knockturn Alley and people here weren't as friendly as those in Diagon. And they were two witches, walking alone, with what looked to be a relatively expensive package. Not to mention the fact that it had been--five galleons and a chunk of hair expensive, in fact. Somehow, she did not put it past the frog-man to send someone to get his valuable mirror back, just so he could resell it again. She shuddered to think of the type of people lurking in those alleys, turning away from a particularly foul scented one when she heard a low, gutteral growl from within.

But just ahead she could hear the first embers of Diagon Alley sparking to life, a loud hum of voices and laughter that signalled their return to the rest of the general populace. She knew what was coming the moment they stepped out into the lively throng of people.

"What on _earth_ were you thinking?" demanded a furious Hermione, as she whirled violently around to face Ginny, toppling a few people who were walking past, "Do you know _half_ the things he could do to you with the amount of your--your _hair_ you gave him?!?" And now she was in for it; a lecture to combat all lectures. She figured she should wait it out, let Hermione exhaust herself before she attempted any explanations. "He-he could enter your head at night and mentally _rape_ you, or, or track you and _kidnap _you and do all sorts of nasty, horrible things. What if-what if--" Hermione cut herself off, flushing crimson at something behind Ginny. Tentatively, she took one hand off the package and waved.

Ginny peered around her shoulder, only to feel her face break out into a grin. There was her loping oaf of a brother Ron--and judging by their extraordinarily flushed faces, neither he nor Hermione had forgotten the proposal of 'play-dating'. Ginny wondered if either of them really dreaded it. They were both probably just making excuses so that they wouldn't have to face eachother in that respect. And it shouldn't have been hard, if they were looking at it from a joking point of view. Maybe...maybe they were afraid they would land up looking at it as...more?

Through a smile that was clearly pasted on, Hermione muttered, her teeth clenched, "Now _look_, Ron has come. What am I going to tell him when his baby sister gets kidnapped by some Dark wizard because she gave him a lock of her hair to benefit _me_?" Ginny snickered despite herself and didn't reply as Ron finally reached them, and Hermione greeted him with an air of shyness. "Hey Ron," she said, holding on to the package still against her chest, "Funny to see you here."

"Yeah..." he said, smiling slightly, "I came to look for Ginny, but they told me you two went down to...Knockturn?" His smile was evidently strained.

"We did," Ginny said confidently, "We had to buy something. Why did you have to look for me?"

"Well--" his voice sounded choked with nervousness, "How 'bout, how 'bout we go back to The Burrow and we can all sort this out?"

* * *

The next morning, Ginny found herself awake early, a good few hours before she had to report to the café. She stretched languidly out on the bed, enjoying the warm, young sunlight that filtered into the room and fell across her bed. Her left foot hit something soft and furry, and she idly began to stroke it. Good old Ivan, always finding the places on the bed where she would wake up, stretch, and then feel obligated to stroke his great stomach with whatever appendage hit it first. What a loyal beast.

As though he could tell she was thinking of him, he raised his head, peering at her with his large blue eyes. He cocked his head to the side, and she laughed. "You're a beggar, you know," she told him, sitting up again. She felt well rested and alive, as though she had slept enough, now, to make up for her lack of sleep last week. Last week had been bad, but if she could manage to feel rejuvenated after a Monday, then this week must be on a good note. Flexing her toes so that they cracked, she swung off the bed and padded barefoot out of the room, to hear Ivan scrambling after her into the kitchen.

He liked to be fed the moment she woke up, because, it seemed, the moment she woke up, he woke up, too. It was amazing how he had adapted so well to her lifestyle, and to _her_, really, as though he had been specially designed to suit the way she lived. Placing his now-filled food bowl on the ground before him, he wasted no time in munching it down. She changed his water dish before finally finding herself some cereal.

They ate in peace, a type of tranquility Ginny was unsure she would ever have with any other human. Ivan was simply too perfect, and no one would ever be able to compare with what they had. Sometimes, she felt as though he could understand her thoughts, and as though he spoke to her, in his strange, doggy way. When she was sad, he would rub against her foot, laying his large, drooly head atop her lap and looking at her in a way that told her he was trying to make her feel better--and when she was happy, he would act just as ecstatic as she, romping around like a puppy and giving great howling barks of what she suspected was laughter. Her soul mate, it seemed, was a very large, constantly drooling, dog.

Once they had both completed their eating, Ginny decided that it had been too long since Ivan had had a proper walk. Perhaps this was the reason he was getting so very lazy. Throwing on her jogging gear, she put on his leash and shut the front door behind them, walking at a fairly steady pace. For as long as she could remember, this had been her main form of exercise, fore she doubted running up and down a café seven days a week could be counted as such. She walked him around the neighborhood and to the park, which, with its rolling hills, jungle gym to one side and forest trail to another, was covered in a light morning layer of mist. She liked the park when it was like this, empty except for the birds and squirrels and the ocassional chipmunk. Letting him off the leash, she ran, carefree, onto the dewy grass, knowing that her canine would follow along at his own pace.

Although Ginny preferred to run or jog whenever she did come for walks with Ivan, he usually lagged behind. Sometimes, if he felt up to it, he would trott along beside her for some way, or run ahead and then back again--but he had never been particularly active. However, Ginny acknowledged the fact that he was a dog and did need more exercise than walking from the kitchen of her small flat to the living room or her bedroom. That being said, she let him do what he would while she did what she willed.

The air was crisp and pleasant this morning, and it gave her the uncanny feeling that nothing could ever go wrong. She gulped in deep breaths of it, happy that it felt cool and clean in her nostrils. She fell along the forest path, listening to make sure Ivan was close enough. All of the trees had already lost their leaves in preparation for the oncoming winter, although they had yet to have any snow--just lots, and _lots_ of rain. The scenery calmed her, though, as though she had escaped the rest of humanity to be here, and here alone...

Yesterday, three breakthroughs in Plan Malfoy, as they had come to call it, had taken place. One, was that they had finally delivered the Fateor Mirror to The Burrow, where it was currently staying, and had gathered together all the necessary potion ingredients. That had only been after, of course, Hermione had completed her lecture (out of Ron's earshot, for fear of his wrath) on why Ginny should have never given her hair to that despicable little man. Then, naturally, Ginny had had to go back and make all her lecturing absolutely pointless by assuring her that, while she had held the lock of hair in her hands, she had quickly cast a safety charm on it. This charm in particular was one that many wizards cast on their possessions, for fear that it would be stolen, or to protect it from ill intent. Basically, the charm would cause a temporary but magnificently painful burn on the person whose hand tried to use it in a form of magic that would affect the owner in an unpleasant way (while concurrently preventing said unpleasantness). It was a fairly basic charm that Hermione knew by rote (most people had used it back at Hogwarts, on their trunks and quilles), and after she had gaped for a few minutes, resembling something like a fish, had determined that Ginny's charm was, indeed, foolproof.

That done, the second breakthrough had ocurred just after. Ron had evidently come around in his idea of pretend-dating Hermione. It was quite miraculous, really; he told Ginny, all smiling and calm, nothing like the wreck he had appeared to be the first time. He said he'd been having the hangover of his life that morning, and to placate him in front of Hermione, Ginny had said that he had, indeed, smelt like an awful lot of Fire Whiskey. He'd smiled at her, the same strained smile he had managed when he'd said he'd heard they had been in Knockturn Alley.

Finally, the third had happened when, the night before, Ginny had received a reply letter from Hannah Abott saying that she would be in London on Thursday to start on her Christmas shopping, and that they could probably meet then. She wasn't sure how long she would be staying in London, since she _was_ a freelance reporter and most of the good stories no longer revolved around England's capital (Yorkshire was just _full_ of it, she wrote), but she would make sure to stop by The Burrow every day she was there. The girl was eager to help, and Ginny was eager to see her--but now, she realized, she would have to pull up the old files to whose flavour was what.

It seemed like it had been such a long time since she'd last treated herself to that blissful chocolatey goodness (when in reality it had probably been no less than a day), so Ginny decided that as soon as she finished her run, she would make herself some. Ginny was strange, in the way that she did not seem to have a flavour at all! Her flavour was everything, and yet at the same time she could be perfectly content with just good, old, no-extra-ingredients-added hot chocolate. She guessed that since hot chocolate was her gift, she was not allowed to have favorites. Everyone else she had ever met had a flavour, and in some it shined through immediately--as in the case of Hannah and Lavendar. They were both loud and delightful--but Parvati, and even her sister Padma, had both been a little bit more difficult to interpret.

Nevertheless, by the time Ginny had finished her usual trail, she was seriously craving some hot chocolate. She waited for Ivan before re-attaching his leash and making her way back home. A good run always made her feel refreshed, if not a little sweaty. Okay, so maybe a shower before the hot chocolate wouldn't hurt, either...

* * *

When Ginny arrived at The Burrow, her hair was still damp from her shower, her mouth still tingling pleasantly with the hot chocolate she had concocted, which had been just about _layered_ in whipped cream this morning. That being said, she was none too eager about work today--it had the potential to be very boring indeed. Hermione had retired back to her office at the Ministry, claiming she had paperwork to do; Luna, who was now the editor of the Quibbler under her father's supervision, said she had yet to go over the articles for this week's edition; Colin had to look over photographs for his modelling company's latest brochure; and Blaise was discussing new multi-million dollar strategies on how to sell broomsticks. That meant there would be no more planning in the way of Plan Malfoy--at least not for today. Although Ginny couldn't fathom why, she found she kind of missed her friends' company in something so devious. It was a kind of plan that made Ginny realize how long it had been since she'd been to Hogwarts, sat in the Great Hall and wondered what mischevious happening was going to take place today.

Thus Ginny was left with her decidedly humble café, although humble was probably not the world for it, in many respects. Quickly, Ginny lost herself in the hustle of a Tuesday morning, people of all shapes and sizes squeezing their way through her doors, the bell atop it tinkling merrily over the voices of those who were already seated. The clink of cups against saucers and spoons against plates rang throughout the establishment, the air getting a bit stuffy with all the mirth. Ginny reminded herself to turn on the air conditioning once she got back into the kitchens--which were, coincidentally, smoldering hot once she did. It was no wonder, either; Miranda had already thrown herself into the baking and boiling off all sorts of yummies, and the heat had accumulated.

"I need to get better ventilation in this place," Ginny grinned over to Miranda, flicking her wand to turn up the air conditioning, "Else we're all going to be smothered with the heat." Ginny wiped a hand over her forehead, swiping away the sweat. She noticed, with much amusement, that Miranda was not affected by the atmosphere at all. From outside, the sound of the Wizarding Wireless wafted in, a song by the Twilight Tinkers spilling into the room. Miranda, cradling a baking dish in one hand and casting various spells with the other, began to sway to the music, smiling at Ginny as she absently went about her work. The two other girls who helped her were also in today, and they stirred at pots and hummed along.

Really, Ginny had a good life, now that she had some time to think of it. She had no reason to complain about anything, honestly. She had two happily married parents, six brothers who were getting along well in life (not to mention a good few nieces and nephews, too), a drooly, lovely dog, several good friends and a job she enjoyed, furnished with people she enjoyed working with. Smiling, Ginny pelted herself into the song, as well, twirling recklessly about as the two other assistants laughed and clapped, the younger of the two pitching herself in to dance along. Miranda rolled her eyes, cooing fearfully whenever they got too close to a stove or some delicious sauce, but anyone could tell she was pleased, too.

Finally, the song came to an end, and Miranda hastily ushered the girl off to some task, glaring meaningfully at her boss with a hint of amusement in her eyes. Ginny smiled back heartily, mouthing a sorry as she took several glasses of pleasantly cool substances out of the kitchens and back into the sitting area, where people looked up expectantly. She smiled at them all, giving those who had ordered it their delicious looking drinks, before making a move to sail back into the kitchen for the next batch. There were still some people waiting for drinks, many standing since the seats had all been taken. She figured they would take their drinks with them, and since the glasses were configured to return to the kitchens once they had been emptied, that was never a problem.

However, a flash of dark hair and a vibrantly decorated robe caught Ginny's eye, and she found herself spinning around to look for it. A giggle of gentle laughter reached her ears and a wide, wide smile spread out on her face. That laughter could only belong to two people on the whole planet--Parvati or Padma Patil--and since one was here, the other must be, too. Ginny found herself pleasantly surprised as she stopped to look for them, her eyes turning to the door of her café, the misted glass allowing her to see the smiling outline of two people who looked very familiar. Padma, Ginny assumed, entered first. That was another one of Ginny's little gifts--her ability to tell them apart as though they were black from white. And since Padma was wearing pink, which was her favorite color, she probably expected Ginny to think she was Parvati wearing pink. Grinning widely, Ginny approached, calling out her name.

Padma gave her a dazzling smile as her eyes caught sight of Ginny, moving to the side so Parvati, who was wearing purple robes in much the same fashion as her sister, could enter. "Ginny! You foiled our plans yet again," Padma exclaimed, her hands on her hips in disappointment. It was an old game, trying to guess which was which. To Ginny, it could not have been more obvious, although she could not tell you how.

"I don't understand how you continue to do it," Parvati said, filling the space between herself and Ginny and giving her a warm hug, "We even wore our favorite colours today, so that you would suspect we were trying to fool you." Ginny could not help notice the girls' gorgeously elaborate robes; they were in the style that Indian witches wore, curving around their frame and ending in a sash that was thrown across the shoulder. A wide, upside down "V" shape was left just at their hips, showing that they both wore jeans. Padma stepped forward to embrace her.

The twins had both grown into shockingly beautiful women, Ginny noted with some good-natured envy. They were petit and curvy, as the robes made sure to accentuate, their olive skin seemed to sparkle in the light and their wide, dark brown eyes glittered beneath their mascaraed eyelashes. The two owned a cosmetics company, dealing in skin care and make up, and it was probably because of their own, extraordinary appearances that their business had been so successful. "So what are you guys doing in town? I thought you would have told me before you came!" Ginny said, leading them into the kitchens.

"Oh, we wanted to surprise you," Parvati said, smiling her full-lipped smile.

"Plus we're here to promote our newest product," Padma added, smiling as well.

"And didn't you need to talk to us about something or the other?" Parvati continued.

"Well--"

"I hoped you wouldn't mind," Padma began, "but I did glance that letter you sent to Parvati, and I'd love to help 'Mione out, too." Padma's eyes sparkled as she said this, and Ginny idly remembered her school girl crush on the bad-boy that Malfoy had been. They had spent a good few evenings back at Hogwarts discussing boys who ignited their interest, and both Padma and Parvati had expressed a certain liking towards Malfoy. Now that Ginny thought of it, she, Luna and Hannah had probably been the only ones who hadn't admitted to similar interests.

"I suppose it wouldn't be much of a problem," Ginny said, still smiling at her friends, "But I think we should wait for Hermione to finish work before we start discussing her man." Her two companions burst out into giggles, but were visibly distracted as the delicious kitchen smells began to waft towards them. "Do you guys want something to drink?"

"Oh yes, please!" Padma replied, "It's really cold outside. I thought it would have been rather nice, because the sun is out and all. But it really isn't."

"Hot chocolate, then?" Ginny prompted, already getting out her materials. She wracked her mind as she put the chocolate and milk to boil, trying to remember their ingredients. Meanwhile the two girls did what seemed to be all of Ginny's friends' favorite thing to do when in the kitchens; trouble Miranda for a taste of whatever it was she was cooking. Ginny smiled as she watched them. The two girls were similar in many ways, but at the same time so different. Padma was a Ravenclaw, for one, whereas Parvati had been a Gryffindor--Padma loved to read and was farsighted, whereas Parvati much preferred to pour over boys. Where Padma was the slightly quieter and more work-oriented of the two, Parvati was loud and boisterous--she loved to have the attention on her. It was no small wonder, then, that their flavours were quite different, if not each a little bit oriental.

Pouring the steaming, chocolatey liquid into two mugs, Ginny put marshmallows and a sprinkle of paprika into Padma's, and a bit of saffron topped with whipped cream over Parvati's. The two girls seated themselves on a counter, having scavenged pieces of various kinds of cakes and chocolates from Miranda, with their mugs closeby. "So how long will you guys be in London?" Ginny asked, as she flicked her wand in order to make two spoons temporarily stir two pots of hot chocolate she had been boiling on low.

Between a mouthful of what looked to be rum cake, Parvati answered, "About two weeksh, maybe lesh." She swallowed before continuing, "It really depends on how long our promotion takes. Hopefully not long, I really itch to be back home!"

Padma nodded, "I hate staying in London hotels. They're always so fancy and," the two girls said together, "_expensive_."

Ginny grimaced. She hadn't exactly thought of how her friends might manage, what with having to arrange a place to stay and all during their little missions with Malfoy. Her nose wrinkled. "The thing is, if you guys want to help with the whole Malfoy thing, you may have to stay for at least a week."

The two girls, in that way that they had, cocked their heads at exactly the same moment, Parvati to the right, and Padma to the left. "Maybe you should tell us a little about this interesting 'Malfoy thing'," Padma said, smiling a little, "And we'll see if its worth our staying at least a week."

Parvati rolled her eyes, and Ginny knew that at least she would stay, regardless of whether she liked the hotels or not. Parvati would jump at any chance for a little oggling time with Malfoy; making him look foolish would just be a plus, to her. "Herms wants to get Malfoy back," Ginny said, as the two girls sipped their hot chocolate, "She really loves him and--"

"I don't understand how anyone could love Malfoy," Parvati said, grinning a little, "Love his _body_ maybe--"

"I don't need to hear that!" Ginny interrupted vehemently, "I'm just in this to help Hermione. And to get a few laughs at Malfoy's expense. Now, Hermione wants to get Malfoy back, but she also wants to have a little revenge. So basically, we've come up with a plan that will give her both these things. We just need you two to date Malfoy for a week, and be absolutely awful to him."

"Date him for a week!" Parvati's eyes visibly lit up, "Do we get to...touch?" Padma's eyes had also brightened, and Ginny had the impression that she found the whole idea very amusing--and enticing.

Ginny was just about to answer Parvati's question, when Padma cut in, "What kind of awful?"

"Well, see," Ginny paused, thinking. She and Hermione had still not sorted out who would get which one of Malfoy's peeves. She wasn't sure if she should tell the twins about them, since Parvati seemed a little bit eager on the idea of physical contact with Malfoy. That made Ginny have to supress a grimace. They really needed to plan this just right, so that Malfoy would get absolutely _no_ enjoyment out of it. "Malfoy has a few things he hates in a date. All you guys have to do, really, is fulfill one of them. I suppose what you do after that," she gave Parvati a pointed look, "is none of our problem. As long as you don't make it too lovely for him."

Parvati grinned, and Ginny thought she saw Padma resist a smile. "We can...work together?" Padma's voice was silky in thought, and Ginny did not want to guess exactly what she was thinking.

"I guess," she replied, "All we really need is for Hermione to decide on which peeve you get. You'll have to take a potion, too, so that we can see what's happening. It's a fairly simple sort of thing, and I'm sure Herms will explain it better than me." The two girls looked pensive, but nodded. At that moment, Ginny realized she had probably overheated the hot chocolate she had had boiling, and so rushed to take it off the stove. She also realized that she had not been serving the customers, but thankfully, she saw that her waiters had took out the drinks and foodstuffs that had been pending, and so she returned to fixing up the hot chocolate. She could hear Parvati and Padma discussing in the background, but didn't make much of a move to eavesdrop, as they didn't to conceal what they were talking about. Evidently, they both wanted to stick around and see the outcome of this little plan--and to help in it, too, Parvati continuously stressed...but most of their decisions would have to be based off how their work went.

After they had finished their hot chocolate, the girls insisted that they had to leave. Ginny wouldn't have minded their company, since none of her other friends were then present, but she supposed they did have their work to do. Smiling, she ushered them off and they informed her that they would likely drop by her flat this evening, to give her a better idea of whether or not they'd be able to help. Ginny already knew they would definitely play their part (mostly to have a shot at sleeping with Malfoy), but suspected dropping by her flat was a ploy to see Ivan, who the twins seemed to love with a shattering passion. And to, of course, get more hot chocolate.

**Author's Note: Phew! All this planning is getting me exhausted! And to think I still have to get through the 'interviews' with Hannah and Lavendar, while concurrently trying to give Ginny a life! Anyway, I think I have the perfect way to do it, not to mention I intend to meddle a little in Luna's life next chapter, and maybe Ron or Hermione's, too. Just to give myself a little relief from all this planning!!**

**And SEE, for all you people who said that Ginny was too smart to just give her hair away like that. SHE WAS!! Lovely safety charm. And trust me, the twist I have planned with that piece of hair is not obviously planted. I rather think it will shock you.**

**Please give me reviews as to what you thought, I would **_**greatly**_** appreciate it! REVIEEEWW!**


	7. The Italian Veela & The Londoner

Over Hot Chocolate

Chapter Seven: The Italian Veela & The Londoner

The twins did find themselves over at Ginny's house that evening, assuring her that they would, indeed, be able to help. They not only affirmed that they would stay in London until they had successfully carried out their week-long date with Mr. Malfoy, but they also offered to contribute the cosmetics to their cause, and possibly stay a bit longer. After all, all five of the girls intending to date Malfoy would have to look their very best, and for this offer Ginny was especially grateful. She and the twins also spoke of their lives from the last time they had seen eachother; during the summer when they had both stopped by The Burrow for some cold drinks and cake. It was a comfortable little gathering, and though the twins were appalled that Ginny's love life was not half as colourful as theirs--although she insisted hers was nonexistant--they were still, evidently, overjoyed to hear of people like Blaise and Colin.

Ginny, of course, rolled her eyes incessantly, insisting that neither of her two male best friends could _ever_ been seen in that light, but like they always did, the twins continued on. Once they started, it was almost impossible to get them to stop--and once Ivan made his much awaited appearance at the door to her bedroom, they both just about pounced on him. Although it was obvious that they had an extraordinary love for dogs, neither of them had made any moves towards getting one of their own. "Once we're married, we will have all the dogs we need," Padma had said, joy in her eyes as she just about rolled on the floor with an ecstatic Ivan. The twins still lived together, and were in a position much like Fred and George's. They loathed with a passion having to live without eachother, despite their differences, and planned on being married together, and living together even after that.

"We will have two husbands, each!" Parvati joked, scratching Ivan's vast stomach with vigor, "And you will, too! This fuzzy muffin," she made a point of burying her nose on Ivan's shoulder, "and some smelly bloke or the other!" Both she and Padma burst out into giggles, and continued to romp around, animatedly, with an overly happy Ivan. Their company was much appreciated, from Ginny's point, and by the time they were leaving, some two hours after they had arrived, she could say that her jaw hurt from so much smiling, her stomach from excessive laughing. Not only did the twins have an exceptional sense of humor, but they also had big mouths, and Ginny fancied she had heard just about all the gossip for half of England.

Once she had shut the door behind them, after requesting their presence at The Burrow on Thursday (and letting on, not so subtlely that they were also invited for free yummies tomorrow, too), Ginny eyed Ivan warily. The mastiff seemed to smile at her, devilishly, before giving her a look with his large eyes that said, "Well, _you_ never play with me like that." He proceeded to make his comfortable way atop one of her couches, spreading his considerable mass over it and closing his eyes without a second thought. She was tempted to hit him with a pillow.

"You're just like any other male out there, aren't you?" she teased, placing herself on the armrest of the couch the large dog occupied, "Faced with two pretty girls and you forget all about me."

He gave her a low growl of acknowledgement and she smiled. Today had been surprisingly easy to move through, what with the twins having found themselves at The Burrow. Hannah would be there by Thursday, and Ginny would make sure she asked Hermione to present herself there, as well. That way, they would have three people who could date Malfoy, in the off-chance that Lavendar, who Ginny had yet to hear from, didn't turn up. She knew what a hectic lifestyle Lavendar lived, constantly Flooing from one place to another, or off somewhere fancy in North America promoting her new clothing line. It was amazing how quickly all of her old friends from Hogwarts had established themselves--with the exception of Blaise and Luna, who had both inherited their work. But within the span of the three years they had been away from Hogwarts, everyone seemed to have grown up rapidly. Maybe it had been the war that had changed them, though--maybe they had _left _Hogwarts adults. Ginny didn't know, and she preferred not to think of it.

"Looks like I'm going to get to bed early again," she called to Ivan, from inside her bedroom as she changed into her pyjamas, "That means we get to go running again tomorrow." Yawning, Ginny padded into the kitchen to make herself some hot chocolate before bedtime.

* * *

Luna Lovegood could never bring herself to lay a complaint about her work. She figured this was for two reasons; she enjoyed doing it--and her father was her boss. The Quibbler was a magazine he had worked most of his life off to establish, and though most of the topics in it were disbelieved by the larger part of the wizarding population, it still sold out like fire. That being said, Luna had a comfortable lifestyle, and a nice office overlooking part of Diagon Alley. However, on fairly sunny days like today had turned out to be, she found herself staring forlornly out the window more so than reading and making small changes to the--she had to admit--utterly fascinating articles their team of loyal journalists had dropped in.

It was a lazy Wednesday, as the middle of the week always seemed to be, and although Monday's edition of the Quibbler had sold out on wizarding stands all over Britain, Luna still found herself unable to take a break. She had to have all of these articles edited and passed by her father for Thursday evening--a date she recalled, with some apprehension, was tomorrow--and then she had to at least take a walk through the printing area, pretending to oversee what was happening.

She sighed and checked her watch, relieved to find that it was almost lunch time. She had skipped breakfast in order to get to the office early and start on an article she had found herself _very_ captured with; _Muggle Fisherman Reports Naga Sighting Off the Coast Of Guyana_. Although Luna doubted the idea of a Naga being seen off the coast of Guyana--_everyone_ knew they were native to the waters of Japan--there seemed to be some truth to the story, and the idea that one of these rare and ancient creatures might have migrated so far southwest brought pinching questions as to what had taken their place in the food chain back east.

She had just made it to the last paragraph when the door to her roomy office creaked open. Who ever had opened it approached her, laying a hand on the back of her chair and staring out the window into the street. Thinking it was probably her father, Luna quickly finished her work, adding a finishing touch before spelling the parchment to the printers. She turned around, a smile on her face, expecting to see the kindly, bald-headed face of her father, with his rosy cheeks and blue eyes similar to her own.

Needless to say, she was very, very shocked.

* * *

It had been three years since the Golden Trio had graduated from Hogwarts, and three years since the defeat of Voldemort. One might think that the Trio would have drifted apart, what with very little evil left in the world to battle--however, in the case of Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, that could not possibly be true. Firstly, they all had Ministry jobs, therefore making it excessively easy to "accidently" bump into one another several times a day. These accidents happened quite often, some jealous coworkers found, judging from the fact that both Ron and Harry had taken up jobs as Aurors, and Hermione worked in the Ministry of Defense. Then again, the fact that the great Harry Potter and his two trusty companions would have chosen such prominent positions in the field of Wizarding defense could have been foretold by the looniest patient at St. Mungo's.

Secondly, the three made sure to attend their at-least-once-weekly gatherings at a small Muggle restaurant in the heart of London, dubbed _The Londoner_. More often than not these lunchdates would happen on Wednesdays, when the office was at its all time low in productivity and deadlines. Hermione would usually be done more than two weeks' worth of paper work, and Ron and Harry (who had very little to do, anyways), would usually approach her with the proposal. It was a weekly ritual, by now, heading off to the little corner food eatery, discussing what had happened since last week and sharing office gossip. Normally, Hermione found herself looking forward to it, eating out with her two best friends, pretending, almost, that she was in Hogwarts all over again.

Except this week, Hermione was _not_ looking forward to going.

Since Ron had accepted to "play-date" her, Hermione had been increasingly unsure of how to act around him. Not that she had tried to figure it out, by any means, having gone to extraordinary feats (not limited to hiding behind desks and entering the men's lavatory) to avoid coming face to face with Mr. Weasley. She knew it was immature and childish of her to be shunning him for such a stupid reason, but she couldn't help herself. It was confusing, in a word, to think that he could ever accept to do something so bizarre. _Hermione_ couldn't even begin to bring herself to agree to this idea--it was _Ron_ for Merlin's sake! She cursed Ginny for having bullied her into something so absurd.

So when, that Wednesday, she, Harry and Ron Apparated into the alley outside _The Londoner_ (after a distinctly awkward walk down the office stairs), Hermione knew that she was not going to have much fun. Although she had, for some time, harbored a crush on Ron back at Hogwarts, she had quickly grown out of it after meeting Viktor Krum. Now, she couldn't even fathom what it was that had made her want to date him back then. As she had already said to Ginny, _"But he's my best friend!"_

The first thing Ron did that caused her to flush down to her toes, was pull out her chair for her. She couldn't recall if he had ever done something like that before, and suddenly it felt horribly as though they were on a date. A real date, and for some reason, Harry Potter had decided to tag along. Hermione felt self-conscious, quite abruptly, wondering if she should have spent more time on her hair and make-up this morning. Lord, she was even in her _work_ clothes--namely a pair of faded jeans and a jumper, seeing as how her dress robes (which, of course, had been abandonned back at the office) would usually conceal what she wore underneath. 'Deep breaths, Hermione,' she thought, 'Deep breaths.'

"...so old Fletch thought she'd asked him to _lick_ her!" Harry finished, his eyes shining with mirth as both he and Ron burst out laughing. Hermione watched them, shocked out of her reverie. Had she really been that out of it?

"You alright 'Mione?" Ron questioned, looking at her concernedly, when the two had calmed enough to notice that she hadn't been laughing with them. Harry cocked his head and gave her a similar look.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile. 'So he _really_ doesn't care then?' she found herself thinking, all the while becoming more and more confused. Seeing the look on Harry's face, she managed to add, "It's just...I think I forgot to fill out some paperwork. You know how that kind of thing bothers me."

Harry grinned, obviously accepting her half-truth. Yes, it was a half-truth. Work-aholic Hermione Granger had hardly done _any_ paperwork this week, though she couldn't decide whether it was a result of her being so devastated over the loss of her Draco, or the shock of pretending to date her best friend. It was really much, much too confusing. By the time the waitress had come around to take their orders, Hermione had decided that she was, indeed, being foolish. Although this had already been acknowledged, she finally made a resolution to act normally.

"I'll have the eight ounce steak with fries and a baked potato, please," Ron said, grinning cheekily up at the attractive woman, who made no effort to conceal her own flirtatious gaze. Hermione felt something strange in her stomach, but couldn't place it. She didn't know if she wanted to.

"Big steak for a big boy," the waitress said, giving him a small, suggestive smile. Hermione heard Harry _whoop_ with laughter. Someone from another table called for the waitress, and she excused herself momentarily.

"A big boy who's going to die of a heart attack," Hermione heard herself mutter in Ron's direction, just loud enough for Harry to also hear. Again, Harry was reduced to fits as Ron glared at the bushy haired girl. When the waitress returned, Hermione gave her order, "A cesar salad, thanks." She made sure she gave her sweetest smile.

After Harry had ordered, the three settled into a general banter, with Ron and Hermione ocassionally bickering about some topic or another. Apparently, Romilda Vane and Gretchen Hays were now an offical item back in the office, a notion which Ron found very pleasing. "I mean to say Harry," he said, turning to his male friend as he spoke, "have you _seen_ the knockers on that Gretchen? _Have you_?" Harry burst into fits of laughter yet again, and Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"Is that _all_ you males look at?" Hermione questioned, smiling slightly.

"Yes," Ron replied, looking at her goofily. She made sure to swat his arm, hard.

"I think it's great old Romilda finally found herself someone," Harry said, grinning. Despite Harry's apparent happiness, the effects of the war were still evident on him. He looked years older than he actually was, and although he laughed and horsed around with Ron as though they were still in school, Hermione often noticed that he had not dated anyone since the disaster of him and Ginny. He was even reluctant to speak to others, as though she and Ron were all the friends he'd ever need. It sort of saddened her, sometimes, if she thought too long about how he might have been, had the bulk of the war not rested on his shoulders. So she didn't.

Ron snorted. "Harry, she found herself another _girl_," he said, "I think you sent the poor girl crooked after she chased you down in sixth year."

That earned a laugh from all three. It was no well-kept secret that Romilda had had her heart set on Harry Potter back in the day. Hermione looked up as their food came, smiling geniunely as the waitress who approached was not the same one who had flirted with Ron. She couldn't fathom why, but within the course of a few minutes, she had developed a dislike for that woman. After all, if she was to be play-dating Ron out in public, then maybe it was alright to feel a _little_ jealous, right? Right?!

"'Mione, you sure you're alright? Your salad's been sitting there for about five minutes and you've not touched it," came Harry's concerned voice.

It took Hermione a moment to understand what he was saying. Then she realized; in front of her was her favorite thing to eat for lunch, and she'd completely neglected to look at it. Ron, on the other hand, was wolfing his food down as though it were trying to run away from him, and Harry's peppercorn burger was already a quarter gone. She had forgotten how quickly they both ate. And then, of course, would be the dessert consisting of a messy banana chocolate sundae, which was impossibly large, and which they all shared. Needless to say, Hermione usually got the least of it, what with the other two battling to eat it before the other, which was exactly why she needed to finish her salad before they decided to start on it and she ended up going hungry.

"Oh, sorry," she said, giving Harry an apologetic smile, "I zoned out a little." With that, she began to pick at her salad.

* * *

Luna Lovegood had never been one for "men of mystery"; you know the type who wore expensive suits and had these dark, foreboding auras about them. No, she was not that kind of girl, and she preferred to stick to regular people when it came to dating. She supposed this would count as a date--sort of, anyway. There, walking just in front of her, was Blaise Zabini, dressed impeccably in a white button-down shirt, black slacks and a jacket. She was sure he'd had a tie on him, too, but had abandonned it in favor of looking more casual. Not to mention the fact that he also had the whole dark, foreboding aura thing going on. It was hard to miss, with his dark hair falling into his eyes like that. Very hard to miss.

They were currently making their way along the streets of Diagon Alley, to some little restaurant for lunch. To add even more to his "man of mystery" repertoire, he had somehow found himself in her office without a hoarde of employees discovering his presence, and therefore making it the latest office gossip. Not forgetting the fact that her workplace was laid out in a format similar to that of an elaborate labyrinth, and she found herself wondering who exactly had had themselves Oblivated, or if he'd cast a Tracking Spell on her. She wouldn't put that kind of thing past him.

Today the streets of Diagon Alley were packed with women and young children, bustling into and out of robe stores and buying crying toddlers ice cream. It was a jolly scene, and although it was chilly, the sun shone brightly overhead and the sky was cloudless. The cobblestone underfoot clicked with heels, each store looking equally welcoming, and, as they entered the more restaurant-inclined section of Diagon, delicious smells began to waft throughout the air. "Almost there," she heard him rumble from up ahead, and her stomach did something funny. He had a nice voice, he really did.

Finally, they seemed to approach Zabini's destination, a quaint looking bistro situated on a corner that was milling with people. The name of the place, _The Italian Veela_, was written in a large, curling script on each of the spread umbrellas out front, the theme of the place seeming to be a rich cream color. It was packed with people who spilled out onto the street, some evidently waiting for a table. She could see a green and white tiled pathway leading from the cobblestone to the entrance of the place, and a cute white picket fence surrounded the outside tables and a small, polite garden.

Luna internally gaped. It looked far too busy for them to even dream of being seated _today_.

"It's always busy like this," he turned, smirking at her. She was again faced with that extremely pleasing lock of black hair, falling nicely into his face. "Which is why I made reservations."

Reservations?! So he'd been planning this, then. Luna glared a little at his back. Now she felt even more obligated to follow him past the crowd of people into the cute little interior, instead of making a run for it. Not that she was afraid of him or anything. Just that she had found that on Sunday, their uncanny comfort and constantly brushing limbs was a slight unnerving. She didn't know if she could sit through a whole lunch hour of that and make it back to her office in one piece.

Then why had she said yes to him back at her office? Damn her traitorous mouth and his looking so...so very handsome looking down at her like that.

Blaise confidently pushed past the crowd, evidently expecting him to follow her. When she lagged behind, he doubled back, reach out and grasping her small wrist with his large hand and tugging her swiftly forward. Various _oomphs_ and 'Watch where you're going, you troll!'s sprang up around them, and Luna rolled her eyes, muttering half-hearted sorries. Blaise all but ignored them, continuing his walk to the front of the line, where he quickly addressed a bored-looking waiter. "Reservation for Zabini," he said primly, and the waiter's expression immediately changed to one of rapt attention.

"Immediately, sir," he replied, "Just come this way."

The inside of the bistro was just as crowded as the outside, but it had a type of cozy feeling to it. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, the tables round, italian styled affairs with cream cushion-padded chairs to suite. The lighting was bright this time of day, with the sun creeping in from outside, but Luna imagined an evening here could be very romantic. There were unlit candles on each table, and a folded brochure advertising their different selections of wine. There was only one vacant table, from what Luna could see, and it was in a nice corner near a large window that overlooked the street. The waiter seated them there, and menus magically appeared before them. "Can I get you drinks to start off with?" the waiter quested politely, motioning to the wine selection.

Luna was about to order some water, but Blaise got in first, "Some wine perhaps, Lovegood?" His eyes twinkled as she stared, rather blankly, back at him. "You have Moscato D'Asti?" he questioned, not sparing the wine selection a second glance.

"Indeed we do, I shall get you some right away."

"You know that Italian wine is twenty percent water-goblin blood," she stated once the eager waiter had left to find them the tasteful, Italian Moscato.

"I thought goblins couldn't swim," he remarked, setting his green-eyed gaze on her. Luna was again faced with that uncanny comfort that came from being in his presence, the intense way his eyes held hers almost enough to give her goosebumps.

"Well these are _water_-goblins," she explained, as though it should be the most obvious thing on earth. She idly began to fiddle with the napkin on which her eating utensils were placed. It wasn't that she was nervous, she told herself; it was just that her hands felt suddenly restless.

"Is there such a thing?" he quested, eager to keep the conversation going while still managing to sound marginally uninterested.

"There _is_," she answered, "We did an article on them about a year ago. They're extremely rare, but there have been sightings near Reggio di Calabria in Italy. It's believed they reside mostly in the Tyrrhenian Sea, but they're almost extinct because of the production of wines." She paused. "If I'm not mistaken, Moscato is a Southern wine, yes?" He nodded inscrutably and she continued, "Then the wine you just ordered is probably _forty_ percent water-goblin blood."

His face was impassively serious, and Luna could hardly believe he'd not rolled his eyes yet. "I still don't understand how _any _goblin could swim. Have you _been_ to Gringotts?"

The tone of his voice made her smile slightly, despite herself. "Well, yes, but these are believed to be a sort of hybrid of the merpeople--"

"Like a crossbreed?" he asked, his expression still unreadable, "A mermaid and a goblin's offspring?"

Luna nodded, still smiling. "It's believed that's how they originated. Most goblins do, after all, come from Italy."

"And the most beautiful merpeople live in the Tyrrhenian Sea," Blaise added, not missing a beat, "Have you ever been there, to Italy?"

Luna shook her head dreamily. "Oh, I've never had much time for travelling. I'd love to go someday, though. There are so many creatures to search for. I imagine it would be quite the experience."

"I've been there several times. Mostly on business campaigns, though. As you probably know, I sell broomsticks for a living." Luna couldn't help but giggle a little at the deadpan earnestness in his voice. "What?" he said, leaning forward. Her giggling had evidently thrown him off.

"Nothing," she said, looking at his handsome face, the sun shining in just behind his head, "I just find it amusing that you sell broomsticks for a living."

He made a bit of a face. "I find it amusing that you'd like to go out finding mythical creatures and instead spend your days looking over other peoples discoveries in a third floor office." He shrugged, and Luna peered at him from beneath her long eyelashes, her eyes, as ever, large. He was quite peculiar, she found herself thinking, to be so serious like this. She didn't know if he'd done anything but smirk (and at that, only once) so far. And then, even now, he'd not lost his impeccable composure.

"So do you enjoy what you do?" she questioned, suddenly, "This selling of broomsticks."

For once she saw his lip curve upwards slightly in a sort of half smile. She suppressed the thought to ask him that question about Veelas biting people again. "I guess I do," he said, "I mean, I grew up test-driving broomsticks for my father and all, so now that he's retired...It just seemed natural for me to take on the business." He cocked his head to one side, and for Luna, that told her all she needed to know.

"You don't enjoy selling broomsticks," she said, as though to herself, looking at him directly. He was looking right back at her, patient and calculating. "I suppose we're in the same box of chocolate frogs, then."

The conversation faded into that comfortable, awkwardly unawkward silence once again, and the waiter brought their wine not a few moments later. He took their orders and eventually the two began their game of talking again. Luna knew it was a game; some strange game of playing around the truth, telling eachother not lies, but not the full story, either. Occasionally she would point out some relation or the other to an article that had been run by the Quibbler and they would begin a sort of aloof argument on its validity, or she would find herself filling him in about the topic if he had never heard of it before.

By the time they had paid (Blaise paying his share, and Luna paying hers, in wordless agreement), Luna was a little hesitant to say that she'd had what was probably the best first "date" of her life. She considered it a bit of a date, in her mind, a 'half-date' she mused to herself. It wasn't that he'd hadn't taken her somewhere fancy, and it wasn't that there hadn't been even a day's notice. He hadn't even given the slightest hint that he'd wanted to kiss her as he'd walked her back to the front of her office building (to her mild, unacknowledged disappointment), and at the end of it all, he _hadn't_ kissed her. She guessed it was simply his company she liked so much. It seemed that he had no romantic interest in her, and she liked to think that she reciprocated the same state. But, at least, she had finally figured out what Ginny had seen in him.

**Author's Note: Consider this my break from planning! I launched two of the minor romances; unfortunately you guys are going to have to wait a bit longer for the major one. But, of course, you knew that! I'm really taking my sweet time to develop the characters and their emotions--I hope you guys like it so far. This story is turning out to be quite the challenge, and I'm having a lot of inspiration (summer, oh blissful, summer) to write it. So...I guess, ON TO CHAPTER EIGHT!**

**Do not forget to REVIEW :-)**

**PS: Thanks to the Pearl, as always, for a lovely review--and pointing out my lengthening paragraphs, excessive use of dots, semicolons and dashes :-) Also to caught in my own world for pointing out that dollars should have been galleons :-)**


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